A Good Run of Bad Luck
by The Maverick Boys
Summary: Bret and Bart Maverick take Pappy to New Orleans for his birthday. Mayhem ensues.
1. Bart - The Plan

Bart – The Plan

It wasn't often, over the years, that we'd gotten to do somethin' special for Pappy's birthday. First of all, by the time his birthday came around (August sixteenth) we were usually out of money. Second, we couldn't agree on just what it was we had in mind, and by the time we decided on something we didn't have enough time left to pull it off. Then, when we got old enough to solve those problems, one or the other of us was out of town at something we couldn't get out of. But this year we decided - we were gonna take Pappy to New Orleans for this very special birthday. Whether he wanted to go or not.

Now, don't get me wrong. Our father, Beauregard Jefferson Maverick, otherwise known far and wide as 'Pappy,' had been talking about going to New Orleans as long as either one of us could remember. It just seemed like Pappy had as many excuses for not getting there as we had for not taking him. So when we finally put our heads together with enough time and money to actually plan the trip, we were determined to pull it off.

Y'all should know us by this time . . . we're the Maverick Boys, Bret (the oldest by seventeen months) and Bart (definitely the best looking). By now you've figured out that I'm Bart, and that my brother is the one with the dimples to die for. At the moment we were sittin' at the kitchen table drinking coffee, workin' out the logistics of gettin' the three of us to New Orleans. We'd already made sure we had enough money and enough time, now all we had to do was determine when to leave and what was the best route to take. Uncle Ben, Beauregard's younger brother, was there with us, and he suggested the stagecoach to Houston and a riverboat from Houston to New Orleans. It sounded good to us; neither of us thinking about all the trouble one cantankerous old man could get into aboard a riverboat. Or the trouble he could manage to get us into. And just what we might have to do to get out of it.

Pappy seemed to be on his best behavior on the stagecoach leg of the journey, from Little Bend to Houston. Maybe he was excited to finally be going somewhere; it had been quite a while since he and Ben had ventured any further afield than our hometown. Now that I look back on it, he did seem to be in an awfully good mood once we told him about the trip. He spent days combing through his wardrobe and making sure he had enough 'New Orleans Dress-up Clothes' to take with him. "Can't afford to look like no country bumpkin . . . not in a city like New Orleans," he quoted to us on more than one occasion. Of course, he spent almost as much time nagging me and Bret about our clothes as he did checking his. It wouldn't do for him to look dapper and his two escorts to appear any less so.

The closer we got to our departure date, the more fidgety Pappy got. He spent countless hours checking and rechecking everything he intended to take with him, and Bret and me both knew we probably wouldn't get any decent sleep the night before. We were pleasantly surprised when that turned out to not be the case.

I was up earlier than Bret, and when I came downstairs I found Pappy already dressed, packed, and ready to leave. All I wanted was a cup of coffee, and thank God Lily Mae had that all ready for us. "What times the stage?" Pappy asked before I'd even had a chance to sit down.

"Ten o'clock," I told him, and three seconds passed before he asked the next question.

"When do we have to leave here?"

"Not before nine o'clock, just to be safe."

"When's your brother gonna be up?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, Pappy. What time is it now?"

"Six-thirty," Lily Mae answered.

"He won't sleep too long."

"Are you packed?"

That was the fourth time he'd asked me in four days. "Yes, sir, I am," I answered him for the fourth time.

"Can't be too sure these days," he murmured under his breath. "What about your brother?"

"I don't know, Pappy. I assume he is."

"You assume I am what?" Bret asked as he came down the stairs.

"Packed," I replied.

I saw the look in his eyes, and for a minute I thought he was gonna tell Pappy that he hadn't even started, but at the last minute he must have thought better of it. Instead, his top lip curled up in the beginnings of a smile, and he nodded. "I am packed. We won't miss the stage, Pappy."

By eight-thirty none of us could stand it anymore and Bret went out and hitched up the horses. Lily Mae was gonna drive us into town, and she was just as ready to go as we were – anything to stop Pappy from asking more questions. When we got to Little Bend we left our bags at the Wells Fargo office and went to the café to have breakfast; Lily Mae said her goodbyes and headed home. Food seemed to settle Pappy down some, and he was ready for a nap by the time the stage finally arrived. We were indeed fortunate; this morning we were the only ones going to Houston and there was plenty of room for Pappy to sleep, while Bret and me played our version of poker.

The trip to the riverboat in Houston was relatively peaceful . . . at one stop or another we'd pick up a spare passenger, but they'd depart in the next city. Eager as Pappy was to get to New Orleans, it was easy enough to keep him out of trouble as long as we were on the stage – there was merely no trouble to get into. All that was about to change, once we'd boarded the riverboat.

The Houston River Belle wasn't the most massive paddlewheel I'd ever been on, but it was definitely bigger than most of them. The route from Houston to New Orleans was one of the most profitable, and that might account for the mix-up in the rooms that they'd booked for the Mavericks. There were supposed to be two staterooms for us, with a single bedroom suite between the staterooms. Instead they'd booked us into one stateroom and one suite, which meant there were only enough beds reserved for two of us. Being the youngest of the group, I offered to bunk with Bret and sleep on one of the sofas so Pappy could have the suite to himself. I wasn't thrilled with the proffered arrangement, but we'd waited too long before doing this to let something as minor as who slept where to interfere with our plans.

The three of us decided to have supper together, then each went his separate way to relax and get ready for such. I know that Bret got cleaned up and shaved; I took a bath. We were both ready around the same time and went next door to pick up Pappy. He was waiting in the hall for us, nervously pacing back and forth and talking to himself. "Is there a problem, Pa?" Bret asked as we exited the room.

"Nope, nope," Pappy answered, "Just a might hungry, I expect."

"Let's go have supper, then," I suggested, and we set off to find the dining salon. The food was excellent, and there was plenty of it. I didn't know that you could cook plain old potatoes so many different ways. And as we neared the end of supper our thoughts turned to other things. Mine went straight to poker, and I assumed that Bret's and Pappy's did, too. As was our usual method of operation, we split up and each of us went looking for a game that appealed to us. Bret found one right off; he was about three tables north of where I sat. I didn't notice where Pappy found a game, but I was sure to hear it later.

I smoked a cigar or two and got up once or twice to stretch my legs. I noticed Bret did the same thing, but I never saw Pappy so much as even twitch until well after three o'clock in the morning. By that time I'd already considered going to bed once or twice, but we were havin' such a good time at the table, and I was playin' so well that I decided to ride it out. Wasn't too long after that when I heard Pappy's voice, loud and clear. It was as cold and elegant sounding as could be.

"You always play like that, sir?"

And it was well-matched. "Are you insinuatin' somethin,' sir?"

"No, sir, I'm not insinuatin' a dang thing. I'm sayin' it right out loud. You are a card cheat."

In a matter of seconds, the entire gambling salon got deathly quiet. You could hear the rapid breathing of the card cheat; Pappy wasn't making a sound. The man pushed back his chair and rose to his feet . . . he was about the same height as Beauregard but outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. And was a full ten years younger. "Sit down, sir. We've nowhere to go to settle this like gentlemen."

The man continued to stand. "You will rescind that accusation, sir."

Pappy laughed. "I will do no such thing."

"Then be prepared to defend yourself, sir."

Now it was Pappy's turn to stand. As a matter of fact, he wasn't the only Maverick that stood and waited to see what happened. Bret and me were both on our feet. "Isn't that gonna damage the little contraption where you hide your cards?" Never one of faint heart, Pappy was ready and waiting when the card sharp attempted to throw what looked to be a right hook. Pappy took one step backward and countered with a left hook that hit its mark and left the aggressor sliding sideways off the poker table. Punches were thrown indiscriminately for three or four minutes; the cheater landed a right cross that staggered Pappy, but he came back quickly with an uppercut that left the man spread inelegantly across the floor. Before he could get up and try to throw another, both my brother and me had jumped into action. Bret tackled the charlatan, and I grabbed Pappy and kept him on his feet. "Let go of me, Bartley," Pappy more or less growled at me and, since my brother had the other combatant well in hand, I did as requested. The salon manager was there only seconds after we were.

"Here now, what's all this about?" he demanded.

"You have a card sharp in your midst. Check his right shirt sleeve, I believe you'll find the Queen of Spades nestled there quite comfortably. And if that isn't enough for you, you'll find the deck missing the Ace of Hearts."

The manager fished around for a few seconds as instructed and extracted the aforementioned Queen. From the look on his face, he needed no further proof. "I believe your poker playing is finished, Mr. Singer. Please do not attempt to return to the salon." Then he turned to Pappy. "I sincerely apologize, Mr. Maverick. That kind has usually been spotted and asked to leave before he can do much damage. I don't know how he slipped through. If it weren't for your diligence . . . "

Pappy gave me a wink and a smile. "I despise cheaters, sir. To me, they are the lowest of the low. Why I remember a time . . . "

"Psst, Pappy, that's enough. Let's pick up this roadshow and head back to the rooms," I whispered in his ear. "I think you've done enough damage for one night."

"I have to agree," Bret interjected. "I think you've acquitted yourself quite well for one night of poker. Tomorrow is another day."

"Maybe you're right." A yawn interrupted Pappy's thought. "It is awfully late."

"Too late to go home now?" I leaned over and asked Bret.

"I'm afraid so," came my brother's reply.

Bosh. We should have gotten off the boat and caught the next coach back to Houston. We'd have all been better off.


	2. Bret - The Catch

Bret – The Catch

Pappy seemed to thrive off his having caught a cheater in the salon. As soon as we started back to our stateroom, he lit a cigar, and there was an extra skip in his step as we walked along. Meanwhile, my brother looked . . . Irritated was the best way I could describe it. I was starting to wonder how serious he'd been about going home.

When we got back to the room Pappy crushed out what was left of his cigar and turned to us with a grin. "Not bad for a night's work."

"Starting a little early, aren't you, Pappy?" Bart asked.

Pappy scoffed. "What else was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn't see him?"

Pappy had that tone that said he wasn't expecting an answer so Bart just gave me a look and rolled his eyes. I shrugged and fought a smile. I knew Bart wasn't happy with what had happened. I wasn't thrilled with it, but Pappy had a point. Maybe he could have handled it differently but it was Pappy, and he only handed things one way, Pappy's way. Hopefully, this wasn't a precursor to the way the rest of the trip was going to go.

"Well, goodnight, boys."

"Night, Pappy," I replied and heard the same come from Bart. Once Pappy disappeared into his suite, I turned to Bart. "He certainly started things off with a bang, didn't he?"

Bart sighed. "Only Pappy. I still think maybe we should consider goin' back home."

I laughed. "Forget it, Brother Bart. He's havin' the time of his life; we wouldn't be able to drag him back to Little Bend now if we had to."

"Yeah, I know," Bart answered as we started undressing. "But I've got a bad feeling about this."

"What?"

"All this. We just got on the boat and he's already gotten into a fight."

I couldn't help but wonder why Bart was so aggravated. There were a dozen different ways I could think of that the night could have been better, but there were also a hundred ways it could have been worse. "Come on, Bart, you can't really blame him for the fight. He confronted a cheater the way any of us would have."

"I know, but don't you think he's gettin' a little old to go around throwin' punches?"

"You better not let him hear you say he's gettin' old." That almost got a smile out of Bart. "Besides," I went on. "He didn't swing first. You didn't want him to stand there and get hit did you?"

"Of course not, it's just . . . ." Bart scrubbed his face with his hands before throwing them up in a gesture of surrender. "So far this trip hasn't gone the way I expected it to."

I saw Bart's eyes shift to the sofa for a split second and I started to understand the problem. The missing room had grated Bart a little more than he'd let on, then there was Pappy's fight . . . I guess I couldn't blame him for being a little put out. Truth was I wasn't happy about the fight either, but what I'd told Bart was true. What else was he supposed to do? "You sure you don't want the bed?" I asked. The last thing I wanted to do was give up my bed, but if it put Bart in a better mood it would be a worthwhile trade. "I'll flip you for it," I added lest he think I was being too nice.

Bart couldn't stop the smile this time. "With your double-headed coin? No, thanks. Besides, you are the older brother. Your old bones probably need the extra padding."

"Older and wiser," I said throwing my shirt at him. "Come on, let's get some sleep. Things'll look better in the morning."

XXXXXXXX

A good night's sleep seemed to sooth Bart's frayed nerves, and when we got up later that morning he was more like himself. It was past noon and I decided the first order of business, after getting dressed, was to find something to eat. Bart agreed and we made ourselves presentable as quickly as we could. By the time I was ready to go we hadn't heard a sound from Pappy's room.

"Do you think he's alright?" I asked as I slipped my jacket on.

"Do you think he's in there?" Bart replied.

"Where else would he be?"

Bart shrugged. "Who knows? He could have gotten up before either one of us and is already out there chasing a woman around."

While what Bart was saying wasn't impossible, it wasn't likely. Pappy still holds a great appreciation of the opposite sex, but he's not that bad. "He's in there," I told my brother confidently, knowing Bart's attitude was due to him still being marginally annoyed by last night. "You almost ready to go?" I then asked him as he sat down on the bed to put his boots on.

Bart turned and gave me a look. "Yes."

"You always were kinda slow in the mornings," I said sitting down on the settee and smirking when I saw Bart gave me another look.

When you play poker for a living, you keep rather unconventional hours. That was as true when me and Bart were growing up as it is now. When we were younger, Pappy would stay out most of the night and sleep while we were at school. For a while, it had been up to me to see that both Bart and I got to school. Well, as a general rule, Mavericks aren't morning people, but Bart was particularly hard to get up and moving back then and I used to fuss at him constantly about how long it took him to get dressed. Given that we'd gotten up about the same time this morning and he wasn't ready yet, I couldn't help but point out the similarities. Especially since Bart was a little cranky today.

Bart pulled his boots on and stood. "I'm ready."

I got up with a grin. "About time." I'll admit it was childish, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Before we left I looked back to Pappy's door. "You think we should wake him up?"

Bart had been putting his jacket on but paused with it half-on and followed my line of sight. "Why?"

"I don't know. What if he wants to eat too?"

Bart raised an eyebrow and looked at me questioningly. His confusion soon turned to triumph. "You don't think he's really in there, do you?"

It wasn't as simple as a yes or no. Honestly, there wasn't any reason for me to think Pappy wasn't still asleep. We'd all turned in pretty late, and me and Bart were just now getting up. Still, given the mood he'd been in last night, anything was possible, and for all I knew he had run off hours ago and found some sweet, young thing to woo during our trip. Or some other type of trouble that would cause me and Bart some kind of heartache before we got to New Orleans. I guess I would just feel better if I knew for sure where he was. "I just thought he might like to join us."

It's not as if Pappy can't take care of himself. He's been doing it for longer than either one of us have been alive, and it's not like me or Bart have any right to tell him what he can or can't do, but I couldn't quite shake the sudden feeling that something was going on. Probably just Bart's earlier doubts rubbing off on me

"Uh-huh," Bart said as he finished slipping on his coat. "Whatever you say."

I was already at the door of our suite and Bart by the settee, making him closer to Pappy's door than I was. "Just open the door and look in on him, will ya?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Why should I?"

"Still afraid to go into Pappy's room?" I asked. Right after Mama died, Bart had spent a good year-and-a-half, if not two years, all but refusing to go into Pappy's room, for pretty much any reason.

Bart grinned. "Yep."

At that moment I knew Bart was paying me back for my earlier teasing. He wasn't going to help me out on this one bit. He may be just as worried as I was that Pappy was up to something, but he wasn't going to open that door. I guess he has a right to be childish sometimes too.

We looked at each other for close to a full minute before I finally broke. Sighing I walked around Bart and over to Pappy's door. I eased the door open and found Pappy still fast asleep. I shut the door feeling ridiculous.

"He in there?"

"Of course, he's in there. Let's just go eat."

We didn't say much on the way to the dining room, but I thought the whole walk. By the time we were seated, I decided we needed to talk about this trip. We couldn't spend all our time on this boat worrying about Pappy. Maybe we were making this trip in honor of Pappy's birthday, but Bart and I intended to enjoy ourselves too. There was no way we'd be able to do that if we spent all out time either riding herd on Pappy or thinking we needed to be riding herd on Pappy.

"We need to talk about Pappy, Bart," I told my brother after we'd ordered.

Bart nodded. "I agree."

"We can't spend this entire trip worried about what he might or might not do."

"I know, and if we spend the whole trip acting the way we did this morning we're both gonna be crazy by the time we reach New Orleans."

My turn to nod. "Right. After all, he's a grown man and he got by more than thirty years without either one of us around."

"More than forty," Bart added. "Even after we came along it was still awhile before we went into a saloon with him."

"Right."

Bart sighed. "Look, I know I was upset last night, even this morning, but you were right. I was just hoping things would go smoother than they did, but I guess I'd be disappointed if Pappy hadn't acted the way he did."

"Probably so," I agreed, knowing he would have been. Letting an incident like that slide would worry me far more than any fight ever would. "Maybe we should . . . ." I trailed off suddenly getting the feeling someone was staring at me. I looked over to my right and found a man a couple of tables away watching me. He looked away when he saw me turn his way, but he wasn't fast enough for me not to catch him. Whoever he was, he'd definitely been watching me. I tried to get a look at his face, but I couldn't tell much from where I was sitting. He looked pretty average, slim, early-twenties, sandy colored hair, clean shaven, and completely unfamiliar.

"What is it?" Bart finally asked.

I turned back to my brother. "I'm not sure. I get the feeling that man over there is watching me, brown suit and sandy colored hair."

Bart looked over to where I indicated, but he could see even less of the man than I could. "Know him?"

"Nope."

Bart watched him for another minute then shrugged. "Probably nothing. What were you saying?"

I took a minute to get my train of thought back. "I was just saying that we agree that Pappy's a grown man. He can do what he wants when he wants, and he doesn't need our permission. And if he finds himself playing with a cheater, he doesn't have much choice but to confront them. Right?"

Bart nodded. "Right."

"Good."

Bart suddenly broke into a grin. "So what do you think Pappy would say if we told him he has our permission to do what he wants to on this trip?"

I couldn't stop a grin of my own. "I think he might just forget all about ages and remind us who's the pappy and who's the children."

"That's sort of what I thought."

About that time our food arrived, and we decided to talk about something besides Pappy. We settled on New Orleans and the plans we had once we landed there. It had been some time since either of us had seen the city and we were both eager to see how it had changed over the last few years.

A couple of more times during our meal that feeling of being watched returned and every time my new friend was looking my way. Frankly, it was more annoying than anything, and by the time I'd finished eating, I was ready to get out of the dining room and away from his prying eyes. I half-expected him to follow me out, but I kept my eye on him and he didn't look my way again after me and Bart got up.

"Worried?" Bart asked as we stepped back out onto the deck.

"Nah, not really. Annoyed more than anything. He needs to find him a lady friend so he'll stop looking at me."

Bart laughed and offered me a cigar. I took it, and we strolled around the deck as we smoked. It had been a while since I'd been on a riverboat too, and I'd forgotten just how relaxing the river could be. I'd almost finished my cigar when I saw Pappy leaning against the railing.

"Pappy made it up," I told Bart. Pappy took a step back about then, and I saw he wasn't alone. A young lady, a very young lady was by his side.

"Looks like he found some company too," Bart commented dryly, a touch of his previous annoyance coming back to his voice.

"Remember what we agreed on," I told him. Bart just nodded. "Do you think we should go over there?" I asked. I didn't want to butt in, Pappy was with a lady, but I was curious about the girl.

Before Bart could answer Pappy looked up and saw us. The grin he was already wearing grew, and he waved us over. "I guess so," Bart said.

"Boys," Pappy said as soon as we were close enough for him to talk to us without yelling. "We were just talking about you."

"We were?" I asked.

Pappy either didn't hear or choose to ignore the question. "Boys, allow me to present Miss Olivia Ames. Olivia, these are my sons, Bret and Bart."

"Ma'am," I said tipping my hat. I heard Bart give a similar greeting from behind me.

Olivia latched on to Pappy's arm and beamed at both of us. "Your father's told me so much about you I feel as though I already know you both."

"He has?" That came from Bart, only because he got it out before I did. I couldn't recall ever hearing about an Olivia Ames before, but she certainly seemed to know Pappy very well, too.

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm. He just can't stop talking about you. Although, Beauregard, I don't think you did them justice. They're much better looking than you said." She looked up at him. "Of course, it's easy to see where they get their looks from."

Pappy patted her arm. "I can't take all the credit for that. Their mama was the prettiest thing you ever saw."

They both laughed and continued talking like old friends. I edged closer to Bart, who looked a little peaked. "Do we know an Olivia Ames?" I asked him softly.

He shook his head. "Never heard of her."

"We were just about to go to the dining room for some coffee," Pappy said. "Care to join us?"

"We just ate," Bart told him.

"That's right. We thought about taking a walk then maybe finding a game," I added.

"Suit yourselves," Pappy replied. He looked at Olivia. "Come along, my dear."

I watched the two of them walk off together, Miss Ames still chatting up a storm and Pappy smiling indulgently at her. Meanwhile, Bart was giving me a what-is-he-doing look. "Let's get back to the room before you say anything," I told him.

Bart sighed heavily and promptly headed for the room. We didn't say anything during the walk but as soon as we were inside Bart tossed his hat on the settee and ran his hands through his hair.

"What was that?" he asked me.

I flopped down in one of the chairs. "I don't know, but remember, he's a grown man . . . ."

"I know. I know," Bart said nodding irritably. "And I knew he'd find him a woman or two on this trip, but I was expecting them to be . . . ."

"Closer to his age?" I offered.

"Exactly. How old do you think she is?"

I shrugged. "Closer to your age than his, I'd say."

Bart finally sat down and snorted a laugh. "Oh, what are we gonna do with him?"

"There's not a thing we can do. Except do our best to keep him out of trouble."

"Given what he's already gotten into, that may be a tall order."

I was afraid Bart was more right than he knew. Not that I was troubled Pappy was serious about Miss Ames, I've never known Pappy to be serious about anyone, but something told me this girl was going to spell trouble for us. One way or another. "Maybe so," I told my brother. "But there's nothin' we can do about it now."

"So what do we do?"

"Wait for Pappy to come back. I think he does owe us more of an explanation concerning Miss Ames. Until then, how about some poker?"

"Maverick style?" Maverick style is what Bart and I have come to call the poker we play when it's just the two of us. Basically, it means the dealer gets to cheat. We started doing it when we were young and we wanted to practice the tricks Pappy taught us. For some reason, it's stayed with us all these years.

"Sure," I said passing a deck over. "I'll even let you deal."

We'd been playing a little over an hour when Pappy came back to the room. He raised a questioning eyebrow when he saw us. "When you said a game I thought you meant real poker."

"We decided to save that for tonight," I said. "Care to join us?"

"The way you two play? No thanks." Pappy's never understood or particularly enjoyed Maverick style poker. "Go on and enjoy yourselves," he said settling into an overstuffed chair and lighting a cigar.

"Enjoy your coffee?" I asked.

"Indeed I did. Olivia's a charming young lady."

"And just who is Olivia, Pappy?"

"The young lady you met out on the deck."

Bart rolled his eyes. "But who is she?"

"A young lady traveling from Houston to New Orleans. I can't tell you much more than that because I only met the girl last night."

"A little young for you isn't she?" Bart asked.

Pappy's eyes narrowed just a bit. "She's of age."

"How'd you meet her?" I broke in trying to keep my tone conversational. "I didn't see her last night."

"Well, you wouldn't have. I didn't meet her until the two of you were in bed."

"You went back out after we were asleep?" Bart asked.

"I didn't realize I had a bedtime, Bartley."

"That's not what he meant, Pappy," I said giving Bart a let-me-do-the-talking look. Knowing those two the way I do, I knew it wouldn't take much for a disagreement to break out. "It was just late when we turned in. It's surprising you went back out is all."

Pappy looked a little disgruntled for a minute but soon was back to his normal self. "I couldn't fall asleep right away, so I went out to have a smoke. I heard what sounded like an argument and went to see what it was about. A man was making some trouble for Olivia so I stepped in. We talked for a few minutes and she seemed like an interesting young lady so I walked her to her room and asked her if she'd like to have coffee today. She agreed, we went, and had a nice talk."

"That's good, Pappy."

Bart nodded. "Yeah, Pappy, real good."

Pappy leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Don't neither one of you start to worrying. I don't plan on giving the two of you a stepmother in the near future."

"Nobody's worried about that," I said with a smile. I figured the best thing to do was to let Pappy get this, whatever this was, out of his system before we got to New Orleans.

Pappy grunted noncommittally before he stood up. "Well, you boys have fun. I'm going to freshen up for supper."

"Little early for that, ain't it?" I asked pulling out my watch. It was only a little after four.

"Maybe for the two of you, but I'm escorting Olivia to dinner tonight and told her I'd pick her up around five."

With that, Pappy went into his room and shut the door behind him. Bart gave me a long look before he sighed. "Well, what do you think about that?"

"I don't know." I gave him a wan smile. " _Is_ it too late to go home?"

Apparently, the answer to my question was yes, and we stayed right where we were, but things settled down after that night and the next two days passed pretty quietly. Pappy spent most of his waking hours either at a poker table or in the company of Miss Ames, but no trouble came from either one. My mysterious friend did show up several more times, but he never said a word or offered to start anything, so I did my best to ignore him. As long as there wasn't any trouble from him, I couldn't see that he was hurting anything even if his presence and stares were mildly annoying. Overall, the atmosphere on the boat was calm, and that had an effect on Bart. Slowly the irritation that had plagued him immediately following Pappy's fight faded, and by the time we were ready to dock he was back to his normal, cheerful self. If only things had stayed that way.


	3. Bart - The End of the Riverboat

Bart – The End of the Riverboat

It was our last morning on the riverboat and I was, quite frankly, glad for that small fact. We'd had nothing but trouble since we first got on board and I was beginnin' to think we were destined to finish the trip the same way.

Pappy and me were awake and in desperate need of coffee . . . Bret was still sound asleep, and from the sound of his snoring, he was gonna stay that way for quite a while. "How about the dining room?" I asked Pappy.

"Sure. Sounds good to me."

In just a few minutes we were sitting at a table in the dining salon having coffee and talking about where Pappy most wanted to go in New Orleans. We were on our second cup when a familiar individual walked up to the table and stopped. I braced myself for a firestorm of trouble.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the sanctimonious Beauregard Maverick and one of his guard dogs. Which one is this, Beauregard? Or should I call you Mr. Maverick?"

I could see Pappy steaming behind his coffee cup, but all he said was, "What do you want, Singer?"

"How did you convince the owners of the River Belle that you were an upstanding citizen, and not the cardsharp you've always been?"

I started to say something and Pappy put down his cup and laid his hand on my wrist. "I've never been a cardsharp, Mr. Singer, and if you knew anything about me, you'd know that."

A condescending laugh accompanied the smoke he blew out, straight at Pappy. "Oh really? And why is it your name is as well-known as some of your friends, like Charlie Black and Everett Mayhew?"

Everett Mayhew I knew about; as a matter-of-fact, Bret and me had helped his daughter Emily out of a sticky situation on a different riverboat. Charlie Black I'd never heard of, but this wouldn't be the last time his name came up. "Just because you're friends with a man doesn't mean you're like him."

"Why don't you tell that to Vic Hansboro?"

That one shook Pappy; I could see it in his eyes. I couldn't sit by silently any longer. I don't know where Singer had gotten his information, but he certainly seemed to be well-acquainted with some of the ne'er-do-wells that had been Pappy's friends at one time or another. And the inferences were unwarranted. Beauregard Maverick may have known some of the best card cheats and con men in the business, but he wasn't one of them.

"Wherever you got your information, Mr. Singer, it sounds like you only got half of it. Beauregard Maverick has a well-earned reputation for being something you wouldn't know how to be if your life depended on it – an honest poker player. He doesn't have to defend himself against the likes of you or any of your ilk. I suggest you go find somebody else to bother."

For a minute it looked like the card sharp was contemplating doing something that wouldn't have been a smart move . . . reaching for his gun. It was just about that time big brother decided to join us for something a little more substantial than coffee, and he came striding across the salon floor. Mr. Singer decided better of another encounter and beat a hasty retreat.

"What did I miss?" Bret questioned when he arrived.

"Nothing, Brother Bret," I told him. "Absolutely nothing."


	4. Bret - New Orleans

Bret – New Orleans

The morning we docked in New Orleans, I woke up alone and found a note that Pappy and Bart had already gone out in search of breakfast and coffee. I was actually glad they were getting some time together. I love them both dearly, and I know they love each other, but sometimes they mix like oil and water. Pappy sometimes gets the attitude that Bart is reckless and irresponsible, which can be true, and Bart tends to think Pappy is overbearing and hard to please, which can also be true. I keep hoping that one day they'll learn to stop and actually listen to the other one. It's gotten better as the years have gone by, but they both need to learn to give a little.

After I got cleaned up, I started off for the dining room in search of some food myself. If I was lucky, Pappy and Bart would still be there. One could only hope they were both still in a good mood.

I'd no sooner walked in than I saw him, the mysterious young man who'd been watching me the last two days. He was at a table alone with a paper, and since I was alone I decided to go make a new friend. I sat down across from him and he looked up, no doubt ready to protest my presence. Then he got a good look at me. His face clouded some, but he said nothing.

"Morning," I said with a smile keeping my tone nice a friendly. "You've been following me around for days now. Just who are you and do you find so fascinating about me?"

"The name's Langley. Martin Langley."

"That answers one question," I said after he offered nothing else. "How 'bout the other one?"

Instead of an answer, I got a sneer. "You're travelin' with that old man."

The comment made me bristle some. There may be times it occurs to me that Pappy isn't exactly a young man anymore, and maybe Pappy sometimes calls himself old, but I didn't like hearing the expression from anyone else. "I'm traveling with my father," I said tightly hoping to convey I didn't appreciate anyone calling my father an old man.

"You look just like him," Langley replied flatly.

"So I've been told. Now, why are you following me?" I'd lost any and all desire to be friendly, so I just looked at him and waited for him to answer my question.

"What's his business with Olivia?" he snapped obviously not in the mood to be friendly either.

"Miss Ames? You know her?" Something told me I wasn't going to like what he had to say.

The man across from me scoffed. "Know her? I've known her nearly twenty years. We were supposed to be getting married in October."

"Supposed to?"

"Well, I guess whether or not we still do is up to Olivia and her old man."

Yep, I didn't like how this was shaping up at all, but I liked Langley and his attitude even less. "You can call him Mister Maverick," I said giving him my best Beauregard glare. Looking like my father does have its advantages, and one of those was having the ability to give out what has affectionately been dubbed by the Maverick clan, excluding Pappy, as the Beauregard glare. Pappy can stop most anyone with that look, and while I'm not quite as well versed in using it as he is, I do all right. It had the desired effect on Langley anyway because some of the fire left his eyes. "None of that explains why you've been following me around, though."

"If you're his son you ought to know something about what's been going on between them. What would a man his age want from a girl like Olivia?"

I leaned across the table not liking what Langley had just insinuated. "As far as I know, he doesn't want anything, but if you really want to know I'd suggest you ask him, and stop following me around like a whipped puppy."

"After he threatened me?"

I'd started to get up, but that stopped me. "He threatened you?" That didn't sound like Pappy.

"He suggested I learn how to treat a lady 'if I knew what was good for me.'" He scoffed again. "Olivia never had any complaints until he started sticking his nose into other people's business."

I had a feeling the man that had been causing trouble for Olivia the other night had been Langley, her fiancé. When Pappy had said a man was making trouble for her, I'd gotten the idea the situation had been sort of serious, now I was starting to wonder. Langley might be a little belligerent, maybe even whiny, but I didn't get the impression he was cruel or anything. What on Earth had gone on between the three of them?

I did stand up this time. "Look, Langley, I'll tell you again, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but if you have a problem with it, you talk to him, and leave me out of it." I tipped my hat and gave him another smile. "Have a good time in New Orleans."

With that, I left Langley with his paper and went to find Pappy and Bart.

I located them in the back of the room and started that way, but before I reached them, Mr. Singer pushed past me looking like he was in a hurry to get somewhere else. I looked at my father and brother and noticed neither one looked particularly happy. I wondered if it had anything to do with the man who had just rushed out.

"What did I miss?" I asked looking between the two of them.

"Nothing, Brother Bret," Bart said. "Absolutely nothing."


	5. Bart - The Bella Union

Bart – The Bella Union

Leaving the Houston River Belle when she docked was a blessing, as far as I was concerned. It meant we left the trouble-making cardsharp behind . . . and he wasn't the only one I'd be more than glad to see the last of. I was hoping that Miss Olivia Ames would have more to do in New Orleans than keep company with Pappy. I'm sure Bret was reveling in the thought of no more Martin Langley.

I was pleased to discover the hotel had done a much better job of booking our reservations correctly than the riverboat did. This time we had a stateroom with three separate bedrooms. We each retired to our bedroom to take care of our clothing, with an agreement to meet in the stateroom in thirty minutes. I thought I was the first to finish, but when I returned to the stateroom, I found a note from Pappy.

 _Boys – I'm going downstairs to meet Olivia. I'll see you at five o'clock in the dining salon. Olivia will be joining us. Pappy_

So much for not having to see Olivia. Which probably meant that Martin would be doggin' my brother's heels, too. When Bret's door opened I showed him the note and watched the storm clouds gather in his eyes. "Now what?" I asked, sounding more rattled by the whole thing than I intended. Much to my surprise, Bret's eyes cleared and he put his arm around my shoulders.

"Let's go find some trouble of our own and remember what we agreed to on the boat."

"You're serious?"

"I am," he answered, and gave me a dimple-filled grin. So we set off to see what kind of trouble we could get into.

XXXXXXXX

Sometime later we'd taken a tour of the casino and found games that we were both attracted to. I left Brother Bret at a Five-Card Draw game and wandered on to one of the roulette wheels. I have to admit that it was the croupier that attracted me more than the game itself – the croupier was a magnificent looking brunette, somewhere around twenty-five, with long hair and a dazzling smile. I watched the wheel for two or three spins and then placed a small bet on twenty-three.

I was too busy watching her work to pay any attention to the numbers, and I was astounded when I heard her call "Twenty-three red."

"Let it ride," I heard somebody with my voice tell her, and it took a minute to realize it was me. Boy, when I go lookin' for trouble, I really go lookin' for trouble.

"Place your bets," she called, and I was tempted to move my winnings. Then she looked right at me and smiled. And just a minute later called "Twenty-three red."

Now I was really in a jam. Everything inside of me was telling me to take the money and run, as far and as fast as I could go. But way in the back of my head was this little voice that kept saying, _'She's not_ _through with you yet.'_ What the heck. My original investment was just a few dollars, and I could afford to lose that. Besides, she kept smilin' at me. So once again I squeaked out, "Let it ride," and a gasp went up at the table. She spun the wheel and I waited, sure that I was finally going to hit it big. Only this time what she said was "Twenty-four black." And I watched her rake all those beautiful chips back to her side of the table. When I looked up, she'd found somebody else to smile at.

I wandered over to the bar and ordered a cup of coffee, determined to regain my sense of balance. That's when I saw them . . . Pappy and Olivia. They were playing Faro – rather Pappy was playing Faro, and Olivia was standing at his side encouraging him. It was the first time I could remember Pappy ever playing anything besides poker. Ever. I drank as much of my coffee as I could, put the cup back on the bar, and hurriedly backtracked to find Bret. I was lucky; they hadn't started the next hand. "Come with me. You have to see this."

I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him with me. When we got close enough to see them, I let go of his coat and pointed. "What?" he asked. I thought his eyeballs might fall out of his head when he realized where I was pointing. "Oh . . . my . . . God. Pappy's playin' Faro!"

"Is this a sign of the Apocalypse?" I asked.

"Must be. What kind of a spell has she put on him?"

"I don't know, but I think we better go rescue him before this gets serious."

Bret shook his head. "I'm afraid it already is."

The two of us hurried over to the Faro table and stood right behind them. It took Pappy a minute to acknowledge our existence, much less our presence. "Well, hello boys. I didn't expect to see you until supper."

"Pappy, what are you doing?" I blurted out.

"That should be fairly obvious, Bartley. I'm playin' Faro."

"That's gamblin', Pappy," Bret wasn't any more subtle than I was.

"Yes, Breton, it's been called that."

Bret and me stared at each other. Who was this man, and what had he done with our Pappy?

"But Pappy . . . " Bret started.

". . . you don't gamble," I finished.

"It's my fault, I'm afraid," Olivia explained. "I wanted to know how the game was played, so Beauregard offered to show me." She paused and smiled sweetly at both of us. "And it seems he's rather good at it."

Pappy gawked at us with a big smile on his face. "Evidently I am." That's when I looked at the pile of money Pappy had in front of him. It was considerable.

"But, Pappy, you're . . ." I almost said _'too old to change,_ ' but I caught myself in time _._

". . . too smart to keep playin' a game you can't win," Bret finished, savin' my hide.

"I know, I know, I just wanted to show Olivia how it was done. Come, my dear, let's see what else we can find to do. Boys, we'll see you at five o'clock."

Pappy picked up his money like it was nothing and walked towards the poker table, with Olivia on his arm. Bret and me just stood there and watched them go, as if we hadn't seen the most astonishing thing happen right in front of our very eyes.

"I . . . need . . . a drink," Bret kind of stammered out.

That pronouncement was almost as astonishing as Pappy gamblin'. "Come to think of it, I could use one myself," I replied, and we headed back towards the bar.

XXXXXXXX

One glass of brandy and two cups of coffee later and my brother and me were both feeling steadier, if not better. We'd had time to sit and talk about the things we'd just seen and heard, and decided we were hallucinating. We had to be. Pappy had refused to gamble his entire life . . . had even lectured the two of us endlessly on the problems a man has if he's a gambler. Not that either one of us had taken it to heart; both of us had not only played Faro or Roulette on occasion, I'd done a fair amount of croupier work on the wheel, and Bret had been known to take whatever job was necessary in a casino to get by when the going got rough. But it had shaken both of us to our very core to see Beauregard Maverick playing Faro.

We were nursing the last of our coffee when I saw something on the far side of the house, just sittin' down at a poker game. Mr. Singer, the card cheat from the River Belle. I seriously began to wonder, was this the only hotel in all of New Orleans? How could Olivia Ames and Singer both end up here, when we had gone to so much trouble to find just the right place to take Pappy? I nudged Bret's arm and pointed again while telling him, "More trouble."

Bret just shook his head. "Do you suppose he followed us?"

"I don't know. Shall we go find out?"

So the two of us got up and walked across the casino floor, standin' behind the players directly opposite Mr. Singer. It took a few minutes before he noticed us, and when he finally did, there was a look of pure disgust on his face. "Oh, no, not the guard dogs."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Singer. We just wanted to say hello, and let you know that we're keepin' an eye on you."

He let out a sigh of disgust. "So the old cardsharp's here too?"

"He is. And if you become inclined to go lookin' for him, we would just like to make it perfectly clear that he is to be left alone. Because if he isn't, it could become exceedingly uncomfortable for you. Do you understand?"

"What are you, his bodyguards?"

I laughed at that one; Bret just kind of smiled. "Something even more troublesome than bodyguards. We're his sons."

Singer muttered something under his breath that sounded like "Wonderful," and gave us a wry smile. "I understand, gentlemen. You'll get no trouble from me."

I tipped my hat; Bret followed suit. "In that case, Mr. Singer, have a pleasant evening." I headed back upstairs, towards our stateroom.

When Bret caught up with me, he asked, "Everything alright?"

"Yep," I told him. "But I think I need a nap before supper. I feel a headache comin' on."

"You know, a nap sounds good. Think I'll join you."

I pulled out two cigars, lit one and handed it to my brother. Then I did the same for myself. We finished the walk back to the stateroom in silence, hoping and praying for a calm, peaceful meal.


	6. Bret - Hallucinations

Bret – Hallucinations

I need a drink. Rarely did I so much as think the words, it's even rarer that I actually say them, but today, I needed a drink.

So I thought Bart was a little crazy when he came over to my game insisting that I had to go and see something right then. No explanation; I just needed to get up and go with him. A little crazy became a lot crazy when he grabbed my sleeve and practically drug me through the casino. When he stopped and just pointed I was ready to ask him why he was reverting back to a five-year-old . . . and then I saw it. At that point, I couldn't blame Bart for his actions or his silence. Words left me too when I finally realized what Bart was pointing at. Pappy, my pappy, Beauregard Maverick, was . . . gambling.

If there is anything Pappy is against, it's gambling. It's a strange thing to hear about a man who's made most of his living at a poker table, but it's true. Anyone who really knows the game of poker will tell you that when it's played correctly, there is very little chance involved, and Pappy never relied on chance when it came to poker. What was even more astonishing than Pappy gambling, however, was how nonchalant he was about the whole thing. When we went over to the table he just sat there smiling and casually partaking in what he's always considered to be one of the most reckless pastimes available. Then he just as casually dismissed the whole thing as if he hadn't been doing anything that was starkly out of character for him. Just took his money and his new lady friend and walked away.

I watched him stroll away from the Faro table with Olivia and turned to my brother. "I . . . need . . . a drink." I'm sure the words were strangled but Bart understood me.

"Come to think of it, I could use one myself."

It was just as unusual for Bart to say that as it was for me, but then Pappy usually didn't gamble either. As crazy as the idea of the Maverick brothers drinking was, it seemed it fit in with the rest of the insanity we'd witnessed today and we made a beeline for the bar. Bart ordered us both a brandy and a cup of coffee, and I had to get through the brandy and half of the coffee before I felt composed enough to speak. "What . . . what's he doin', Bart?"

"How should I know? I'm not sure I ever understood him at all anymore."

How true that statement was. The trouble on the boat had been a nuisance but it was pretty normal Pappy trouble, but this was different. Pappy was different. We couldn't exactly handle Pappy the way we normally do when Pappy wasn't acting like Pappy. I thought about Bart's earlier question concerning the Apocalypse and snorted a laugh.

Bart looked at me, eyebrow raised. "If you've found something amusing in this please share."

"The Apocalypse," I said. "Pappy's gambling and we're here drinking; maybe it is the end of the world as we know it."

Bart finally cracked a smile. "Yeah, given his mood I wonder what he'd have to say about the brandy if he saw it?"

"Is he around? It might be a good way to gauge just what that girl has done to him," I grumbled. "He might just join us."

Despite my resolve earlier to remember Pappy was a grown man who could make his own decisions, I found myself wanting to yank him away from Miss Olivia Ames and lock him up until he started acting like my father again. If I didn't know any better I'd think she had bewitched him or something. For some reason, just at her request according to Pappy, that girl had gotten Pappy to do something he'd flatly refused to do his entire life? And gambling wasn't just something he stayed away from; it was something he'd spent countless hours warning us away from too.

How many times have I heard Pappy complain about Ben's "reckless" behavior when he decided to spend some time at a roulette wheel or a blackjack table? How many times had me and Bart been told about how dangerous gambling could be? There have been countless talks and lectures starting from the time we were old enough to understand what the word gamble meant, and he still had plenty to say on the topic. One of the more memorable ones came when he'd found out Bart had taken his first turn at a roulette wheel. Pappy had had an earful for Bart that time. And he'd had an earful for me because I hadn't done anything to stop him. He's always stayed away from gambling as staunchly as he's stayed away from alcohol. So how had Olivia gotten him to abandon that lifelong belief in just a couple of days?

"We're hallucinating," Bart declared after I voiced the question. "That's the only explanation."

"If only that were true. I keep hoping we'll wake up back in Little Bend and this will all be just a bad dream."

Bart grunted in agreement and had two more coffees brought over. Truthfully, I was tempted to get another brandy; Olivia must be doing something to all of us. I'm a lightweight though. Given all the other trouble we have dogging our heels, I decided that type of trouble was the last thing we needed, so I took the coffee.

There was no doubt that seeing Pappy at the Faro table had rattled both me and Bart, but I kept trying to remind myself that Pappy wasn't ignorant in the ways of the world. He wasn't some bumpkin fresh out of Texas who'd never seen the city or a casino before. Pappy had been well acquainted with New Orleans before me or Bart was ever born, and when it came to taking care of himself he could probably still run circles around us. Still, seeing him abandon a principle that he'd been so dogmatic about for so long was disconcerting.

I was almost finished with my coffee when Bart nudged my arm. "More trouble," he said softly.

I followed his line of sight once again and Lo and behold who should have found his way into this casino but our dear Mister Singer. I shook my head. I'd always thought of New Orleans as a decent sized town but I was starting to wonder. "Do you suppose he followed us?"

"I don't know. Shall we go find out?" Almost before I knew it, Bart had left the bar and was making his way over to the man, and I found myself following. I guess the man technically had just as much right to be here as we did, but I was curious to see if he actually was following us.

Since Bart had already had a go-round with him today, I was content to sort of hang back and let him do the talking, offering nothing but a smile to the cardsharp. I have to hand it to my brother; he kept the whole thing with Singer nice and friendly, on the surface anyway. Despite his conversational tone, when he told Singer to leave Pappy alone or deal with us, I knew he meant every single word. I couldn't help but smile as I watched him. No matter how he might've fussed about Pappy's fight that first night, I knew in forty years Bart would be just as ready to confront a cheater and throw a couple of punches as Pappy had been. Sometimes I wonder if those two realize how much alike they actually are.

After bidding Singer a good day, we headed back to our room. I looked around as we left the casino half-expecting to see Langley lurking about and ready to pounce on me. After all, Olivia and Singer were still dogging Pappy and Bart's step, intentionally or otherwise. Why shouldn't Langley follow me around? I didn't see him, thankfully, but I wasn't optimistic our encounter this morning had been our last, especially since Olivia had latched herself onto Pappy and didn't seem to have any plans to turn him loose anytime soon.

Bart claimed a headache as we went upstairs and once we were back in the stateroom, he went off to take a nap. His plan sounded good to me, so after he shut his door I went to my room hoping to relax a little myself. I stripped off my coat, vest, and tie before taking off my boots and stretching out on my own bed. What was it I'd said to Bart before about finding some trouble? We'd certainly found it today. The only problem was, it wasn't our trouble we'd found but Pappy's, and that just wasn't as much fun. Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to forget about everything that had happened today. Was a nice quiet dinner too much to hope for?


	7. Bart - Falling

Bart – Falling

Once I got back to my bedroom I did lie down, and my headache did go away. I was hoping that it wouldn't return when Miss Ames did. I didn't have long to wait to find out.

Before now, I hadn't had many occasions to take a good, long look at the girl. All I could tell you was that she was pretty and young. VERY young. Somewhere around twenty or so. She was petite, a real southern belle, with long dark hair that she wore in a thick braid that hung down her back. Her eyes were sky-blue, and she was fair-skinned. Her hands were delicate and petite, just like the rest of her, and she smiled almost constantly. I will say this, she had eyes for no one but Pappy. And she seemed to be fascinated by the man. She practically hung on his every word.

I got to notice all this because I almost ran over her when I charged out into our stateroom, headed for the dining salon. I'd had more than my fair share of nap, and I was late getting cleaned up and changing clothes. I came barreling out of my room, and before I could put on the brakes I'd crashed into her. She just happened to be standing less than a foot outside my door, and she didn't stand a chance. I ran into her, then over her, and finally ended up crashing down on top of her when we both fell. Poor thing, I'm surprised I didn't squash her like a bug.

I scrambled to get up and bent down to help her back to her feet, babbling the entire time. "Miss Ames, I'm so sorry Miss Ames, I had no idea you were right there, I really do apologize, I thought we were meeting you and Pappy at the dining salon, what are you doing here?" While I babbled I got up and got my balance, then reached out with both hands and pulled her up off the floor. As I was helping her I finally noticed Pappy standing less than five feet away.

"Bartley, are you tryin' to kill someone?"

I was a bit chagrinned, to say the least. "No Pappy, I'm really not. I'm sorry, but I was late . . . "

"And so you decided to run over Olivia."

"No, I was just tryin' to get to the dining salon on time, which I see I failed to do."

Miss Ames had taken a seat in the stateroom and was trying to catch her breath. "I'm so sorry, Miss Ames." On that note, Bret's door opened and he made a much more dignified entrance. But then again, he usually does.

"What's all the commotion out here?"

Of course, Pappy was the one who answered him. "Your brother is trying to kill Olivia."

That brought a response from Miss Ames herself. "He really isn't, Bret. He was just in a hurry and . . .

"He ran you over coming out of his bedroom."

She sounded confused. "It's happened before?"

"Many times," Pappy assured her. "Are you alright, my dear? Did he hurt you in any way?" Pappy was now over 'inspecting' Olivia, trying to be sure that I hadn't done any real damage. I was close enough to take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it . . . it was so tiny, it felt like a child's hand. While I was inspecting it, Bret was asking Pappy questions.

"Why did you bring her in here to begin with, Pappy? You know what that can do to a ladies reputation."

"We were only to be in here a minute, Breton. Then your brother decided to come charging out of his bedroom . . . and you know the rest."

"I would never deliberately do anything to sully a ladies reputation," I reminded Pete and Repeat. "We'll just have to sneak her back out."

Miss Ames tittered as she snuggled back up to Pappy. "This is exciting! I'm so glad you rescued me from Martin!"

Wonderful. The southern belle was fascinated by a man old enough to be her fath . . . grandfather. Time for both of them to leave the stateroom. I hurried to the door and opened it ever so slightly, just enough to see if they could make a hasty exit. There was no one in the hallways and I waved them over to the door. The girl was still tittering as they scurried out and headed towards the dining salon.

I closed the door behind them and watched Bret. He looked like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. How could my brother remain so calm and collected looking when I could see Pappy's life fallin' apart right before my very eyes?

"What?" was all he said as he looked at me.

"Do you realize – if we don't do something that's liable to end up as our step-mother? That little girl?"

"Pappy would never marry her," Bret insisted.

"Pappy would never play Faro, either. I'm tellin' you, she has him bewitched. You have to go break it up. Do somethin'. Do anything. Flash those dimples at her. Stop her before it's too late!"

My brother was staring at a crazy man, and he knew it. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll stop them for now. But you better think up some way to stop them permanently."

That's just what I was tryin' to do. But I needed time to think. And I needed Brother Bret gone so I could think. "Go on then . . . go get 'em. I'll be along in just a few minutes. Just don't let 'em get any closer than they already are. Cause if she says _'let's get married'_ he's liable to say _'Sure.'"_

I had no idea the trouble Bret would find on his way to supper.


	8. Bret - The Enounter

Bret – The Encounter

When I first left Bart I was more concerned about how I was going to explain why he hadn't come down with me than breaking up Pappy's . . . whatever it is Pappy's doing. Honestly, my first reaction to Bart's hysteria was that he was crazy. It wouldn't be the first time Bart's gone a little crazy at the idea of Pappy getting married again, and I had even been there with him before. That was when we were much younger of course. It hadn't taken too long to figure out Pappy's dalliances were just that, dalliances. His heart had only ever belonged to Mama and, as far as I could tell, it still did. Pappy had never allowed himself to get caught up in anything permanent nor had he ever shown any signs he was looking for anything permanent. Then or now.

That wasn't to say what we'd seen today wasn't odd. I'd be the first to admit it was, but I still thought Bart was overreacting some. While we weren't likely to see the backside of Olivia Ames as long as we were in New Orleans, I was positive when the time came for us to go home, Pappy would bid her a fond farewell, and leave her with many happy memories, as he always did. Still, Bart is my brother, and he was very serious about this. I figured the very least I could do for him was try to avert Olivia's attention away from Pappy a little. Judging by what I'd seen in the room, she was smitten with Pappy, and it probably wasn't a bad idea she be reminded there were plenty of other men in the world. A lot of them much closer to her own age. I just had to find a way to remind her without it being too obvious to Pappy what I was doing.

All this was running through my mind as I went downstairs to catch up with Pappy and Olivia. I was just about to cross the lobby when I saw him, Martin Langley. He was standing at the edge of the dining room and looking inside, a scowl on his face. It wasn't hard to guess what he'd just seen, and it was going to be impossible to get to the dining room without walking past him. I could wait, but who knew how long he'd stay there, and Pappy would get testy if he had to wait too long for us. He was already going to wonder about Bart. I sighed and resigned myself to another encounter with him; this was the perfect ending to the perfect day.

I was vainly hoping that Martin would be so absorbed by Pappy and Olivia he wouldn't notice me, but I wasn't that lucky. Langley not only saw me, he made a grab for my arm when I walked by. Now I can handle being stared at while I eat, and I don't really mind being followed, but Langley was crossing a line by putting his hands on me. I stopped and drilled him with a glare. "Can I help you?"

Langley dropped his hand, but the defiant look remained. "I thought you said nothing was going on."

"I did not say that," I told Langley trying to use the few inches of height I had on him to my advantage. "I said as far as I knew he wanted nothing from her, and as far as I still know, that hasn't changed. Nor has my opinion of things. If you have an issue with Mister Maverick, talk to him about it."

Langley looked back into the dining room and he seemed to deflate some. I must have been imagining it though because when he looked at me again, that same hardness was in his eyes. "I don't believe that."

I sighed. "I really don't care if you believe it or not."

I turned to walk away and Langley grabbed my arm again. This time he didn't back down from my glare. "He has to want something. Why else would an old man be keeping company with a young lady?"

That was the second time he'd insinuated Pappy had something untoward in mind, and I didn't appreciate it anymore now than I had then. Maybe I didn't care for how Pappy had taken up with Miss Ames, but never had it crossed my mind Pappy would do anything to disrespect a lady. He's not as lacking in moral fiber as some folks think.

I shook his hand off my arm again, and took a step closer to Langley. "My father isn't in the habit of sullying the reputations of young ladies, and if you have any accusations to make perhaps you need to direct them at him. And I suggest you be ready to deal with the consequences such an accusation might bring."

That seemed to get his attention, and the bravado slipped a bit. "It – it wasn't an accusation. I was merely saying that most would find the association questionable."

"Maybe, but as I told you, talk to them, not me."

"I can't," Langley snapped. "Olivia refuses to talk to me and I can't get near her with that old . . . your father around her every minute of the day.

"Well, then, that's your problem. And again, I'll thank you to leave me out of it."

Langley scoffed. "I'd think you'd have concerns of your own."

"Meaning what?"

He gestured towards the dining room and raised an eyebrow. "That's your father. You have no objections to his escorting a girl that's barely of age all over this city?"

The comment hit a nerve, although I didn't let Langley see it. No, I didn't really like it, but I wasn't about to let Langley know that. "What my father does is his business, not mine."

"This is serious, Maverick."

I noticed a couple of people in the lobby turned their heads to look at us, and I decided this ridiculous encounter had gone on long enough. "Look, Langley, I don't know how to make myself any plainer than I already have. I can't, nor do I care, to help you."

"Fine," Langley snapped. "But I'm telling you if anything happens to her . . . "

"Are you threatening me?"

Langley sort of gave me a smirk. "No, sir, it's not a threat, just a warning. Olivia's a respectable lady. He had better not ruin that." He looked at the couple in question one last time before addressing me again. "Good evening."

I watched in confusion as he left. I wasn't sure what to make of Martin Langley. At first I'd thought him a little weasel looking for someone else to fight his battles for him, now I wasn't so sure. I was still wondering about the trouble he'd supposedly made for her too. He seemed awfully concerned about her reputation for a man who needed to learn how to treat a lady. I wasn't going to waste any more time thinking about him now, however; I had bigger things to worry about. Like how likely was Pappy to get serious about Olivia?

Just a few minutes ago I'd thought Bart was crazy and overreacting, now I wasn't so sure. Pappy wouldn't do anything to ruin Olivia's reputation, but he was spending an awful lot of time with her. I could believe that maybe he was just enjoying the company of someone he liked, but what about Olivia? Pappy was old enough to be her father, her grandfather if I wanted to nitpick. Was she just spending time with someone she liked, or did she have plans for something more? It seemed unlikely, but it didn't take a lot of effort to see she was more than a little taken with Pappy, and she definitely had him wrapped around her little finger. And then there was Langley; she didn't seem too concerned about the man she was supposed to marry. Suddenly Bart didn't seem all that crazy anymore.

Feeling a renewed sense of urgency, I hurried to the table where Pappy and Olivia were already seated. Olivia was giggling about something, and Pappy was grinning; they both looked too comfortable with one another. I hoped the dimples were enough to get Olivia's attention, because Pappy could offer some stiff competition.

"I'm not late, am I?" I asked as I sat down, giving Olivia a grin of my own when she looked up.

"Of course not," Olivia said, giving me a slight smile before her attention went right back to Pappy. "Beauregard's been keeping me entertained. He's just filled with fascinating stories."

"I'm sure he is."

"Where have you been?" Pappy asked gruffly. "I thought you were coming right down."

"Sorry, Pappy. I saw an acquaintance in the lobby and stopped for a minute."

Pappy sort of grunted in response, then noticed I was alone. "Where's your brother?"

Langley had distracted me from thinking up a good excuse, so I tried for vague. "He'll be down soon." I hoped he would anyway.

"What? He knocks Olivia to the ground because he thought he was late and now he's not even downstairs?"

"It's no trouble, Beauregard," Olivia said sweetly patting Pappy's arm. "I'm sure it's important."

Pappy scoffed. "I wouldn't bet on it. What's he doing?"

The question was aimed at me and I knew I had to tell him something, something that wasn't the truth. I didn't even want to imagine Pappy's reaction to hearing what Bart was really up to. "He . . . wanted to stop and get some cigars."

"Cigars? Why in the world does he need cigars?"

"In case he wants a smoke later, I guess."

"Well, he can't smoke while he's eating."

It was a lame excuse, but it'd been the first thing that had come to mind. Hurry up, Bart, I silently pleaded with my brother. This wasn't going well at all. Pappy was getting more annoyed by the second and Miss Ames would hardly look in my general direction. "He'll be here soon," I told him again.

"What am I gonna do with that boy?" Pappy grumbled. "He keeps us all waitin' because he's got to have a cigar he can't even smoke until . . . "

I saw Bart enter the dining room then and felt a wave of relief wash over me; I needed his help. "He's here," I told Pappy with a grin.

"Bout time," Pappy mumbled. "What took you so long, boy?" he barked when poor Bart finally made it over.

"Sorry, Pappy, I saw someone I thought I knew in the gaming room and wanted to see if it was him before I came to supper."

"Must be somethin' goin' around," I said quietly earning me a funny look from Bart before he suggested a bottle of wine.

Wine? With Pappy? Oh, you do like to live dangerously, don't you, Brother Bart.


	9. Bart - The French Can-Can

Bart – The French Can-Can

I did my level best to come up with a plan that would be effective at breaking up Pappy and Miss Ames. Trouble was, all I could think of was to get her back together with her original fiancé, and I knew absolutely nothing about the man, except his name was Martin Langley and he'd been following my brother around. Something about the resemblance between Bret and Pappy.

So, in desperation, I set out for the dining salon. I was about halfway there when I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of the last person I expected to see again . . . Singer the card cheat from the riverboat. I ducked behind a pillar and watched to see just where he was headed; I wasn't surprised when it turned out to be the gaming salon. I knew that everyone was waiting for me to eat supper, but I wanted to know where Singer was going to light – so I followed him inside.

He wandered around for a few minutes before landing at a Five Card Stud Game. I couldn't believe that he was here, at the very same hotel as the Mavericks and Miss Ames and her ex-fiancé. Of all the establishments in New Orleans, why was everyone here?

I checked my watch and realized I was very late to supper, and hurried off to meet Pappy and Bret. Oh, and Miss Ames. They were all three waiting anxiously for me when I finally arrived . . . well, Bret and Miss Ames were waiting anxiously for me. Pappy was somewhere between irritated and disgruntled.

"What took you so long, boy?" Pappy practically barked at me.

"Sorry, Pappy, I saw someone I thought I knew in the gaming room and wanted to see if it was him before I came to supper. How about a bottle of wine for the table?"

Miss Ames turned her pretty head to Pappy. "Beauregard, I know you don't drink. Do you mind if I have a glass of wine?"

His mood changed immediately, and he was once again the sweet-natured southern gentleman. "Of course not, Olivia, go right ahead and have one. You, too, boys, it's perfectly fine."

Bret and me exchanged glances, but neither said anything until the waiter appeared. I ordered the wine and three glasses, then took to studying the menu. By the time the wine came back we were all ready to order. The meal was actually quite pleasant; Miss Ames proved to be intelligent and well-educated, even if she did seem a tad spoiled. There was no doubt she was absolutely fascinated by Pappy; she deferred to him constantly and hung on his every word. If this was her actual personality, I couldn't begin to imagine what anyone would have to argue about with her.

When the meal was almost over I got Pappy's attention and told him quietly, "Be careful tonight. Your troublemaker from the riverboat is in the gaming room."

"We're not going to the gaming room. There's a play in one of the other salons and that's where we're going." A play. How do you like that? Pappy was goin' to a play. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Well, at least I didn't have to worry about him havin' another go-round with Singer the cardsharp.

When supper was finished, me and Bret put our heads together and decided we'd had enough dealin' with the two-year-old livin' inside of Pappy. There was a girly show, a presentation of the famous French Can-Can, in another of the rooms, and I really wanted to see that. I'd heard a lot about the dance and was eager to find out if it was as exciting as it was made to sound. Bret was all for it; I think he needed a distraction as much as I did.

We got to the showroom early and got what turned out to be great seats. There was a program of local girls that preceded the can-can girls and, while nothing spectacular, they were energetic and attractive. Better than most of what we've seen in saloons and hotels.

Thirty minutes later the can-can girls appeared on stage, all in a line. And when their music started, all I can say is ooh-la-la. I became so enamored of it for a while that I found out it was written by a composer named Jacques Offenbach. I don't know what else he might have authored, but this particular piece was perfect for the can-can. And the ladies! Tall and leggy, every one of them built like there was no tomorrow, long hair in every color piled high atop their heads, with colorful feather headbands. And the dresses and petticoats! Dozens on each lady, in every color imaginable. When they began dancing, kicking and squealing to the music, their petticoats swirled in a cacophony of color. They did the jump splits and followed those with high kicks, rond de jambe's, port d'armes, cartwheels and the grand ecart. I knew nothing about the dances when they began; by the next morning, as I will explain, I knew what everything was called.

I was in heaven, and from the look on Bret's face I'd say he felt the same way. We clapped and cheered and, along with every other man in the audience, whistled our approval and enthusiasm. The ladies danced for quite a long time, and when they got near the end, they left the stage and infiltrated the audience. When the music stopped I had the most delicious brunette in my lap, and Bret was holding an exquisite blonde. My brunette leaned in and gave me a show-stopping kiss, and I assume Bret's did the same. Then she slipped me a piece of paper on which was written: ' _Danielle. Please join me backstage after the show.'_

The ladies scurried away, back behind the stage, squealing the whole way. I looked at my brother, and he held a piece of paper in his hand, just about the same size as mine. "Danielle," I said.

"Collette," Bret replied.

"Shall we go?" I asked.

"Most certainly," Bret answered.


	10. Bret - Collette

Bret – Collette

Collette was her name. She was a beautiful, leggy, very talented blonde, and she was responsible for helping me keep my sanity after the day I'd been through. I didn't see much of Bart after we went backstage, but I didn't care. I was more in the mood for Collette's company than Bart's and I assumed Danielle was taking care of my little brother just fine.

After Collette finished the second show and changed out of her costume, she came up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. After a long sensuous kiss, she looked up at me and smiled. "We could go somewhere more private, oui?" she asked in that delightfully accented English as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of my neck.

"Oui," I replied grinning when she giggled at my heavily accented attempt at French. "Is my suite alright?" It was a question asked just to make sure we were thinking the same way. Collette had flirted shamelessly ever since she plopped down on my lap earlier tonight. It hadn't taken long after I got backstage to get the idea Collette wasn't in any hurry to get rid of me, but I did want to make sure I wasn't presuming too much before I took her upstairs.

"Oui" was the reply I got right before she leaned in for another kiss. This one was longer, deeper, and left no doubt about what Collette had in mind.

It was the banging on my bedroom door that woke me, and I wasn't the only one to be pulled out of my sleep. "Bret?" Collette mumbled sleepily as she stirred next to me.

"Ignore him," I told her wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close. I wasn't sure if it was Pappy or Bart, but I'd bet on Pappy. Given how Bart had looked the last time I'd seen him, I'd guess he was in a position similar to my own. Honestly, though, I wasn't particularly worried about Pappy right now. After the day he'd put us through yesterday, I didn't think it would hurt him to wait a while.

I snuggled up next to Collette and kissed her deeply. I then moved my kisses to her jaw and down her neck. The knocking had gone on this whole time, but about the time I moved my lips to Collette's collarbone she giggled loudly. The knocking turned into a single loud bang and was joined by a sharp "Breton."

Collette pulled away. "Breton?" she asked raising her eyebrows.

I shrugged. "Breton." Sighing, I sat up. I should have known Pappy wouldn't give up and just leave us alone; it'd been a vain hope at best. "It's open," I called.

Pappy flung the door open and came to an abrupt halt when he saw Collette. "What in the . . ."

Collette had also sat up and was now smiling brightly. "Bonjour, Monsieur."

I found myself fighting back a smile of my own at her cheerful greeting. One thing about Collette, no one would ever be able to call her shy. While she was technically covered, it didn't take a great deal of imagination to figure out what that sheet was hiding, and she didn't seem to mind at all.

"Mornin', Pappy," I added.

Pappy gave me a look of pure agitation. "I didn't realize you were busy, Breton."

Breton was coming out of Pappy's mouth a lot more than I was comfortable with on this trip but I wasn't going to let it bother me now. "Just a little."

"Far too busy to take a trip with me, I assume."

That got my attention. "Somethin' wrong?" I asked. Delightful as Collette was if Pappy really needed me I'd thank her for a lovely night, ask if I might see her again during our trip, and then leave with Pappy.

Pappy scoffed. "Nothing of any importance. I'll see if your brother's up yet."

I almost told him not to bother as I couldn't imagine Bart's night had been much different than mine, but I decided to keep my mouth shut. He was already agitated; I wasn't going to add to that irritation. A long moment passed without anything being said, and I finally cleared my throat. "Need anything else, Pappy?"

Pappy didn't answer me but turned his attention to Collette. All the irritation left his face as he smiled at her. "Please forgive the intrusion, my dear."

Collette bit her lip and giggled, and I knew the old Beauregard Maverick charm had worked its magic on her. "There is nothing to forgive, Monsieur."

"Then I wish you a good day, Miss." His attention shifted back to me and just like that, the irritation appeared again. "If you can pull yourself away, Bret, I'd like to see you in the dining room around two."

"Sure thing."

With a final huff, Pappy slammed the door shut.

"Your papa?" Collette asked.

"Uh-huh," I replied thinking of another time when Pappy had walked in and found me in another compromising position. I'd been fifteen and bound and determined to marry the girl I was courting, and we were willing to do whatever we had to in order to get Pappy to give his consent, even if that meant consummating our relationship long before we were ready. Thankfully – I can say that now as I look back – Pappy caught us before we were able to do anything. We didn't even manage to get undressed all the way before he guessed what we'd try to do and came storming in to stop us. That incident had ended nothing like today's, and I couldn't help but smile as I thought about how things had changed over the years.

"He's an attractive man; very. . . distinguished . . . looking."

I'll admit that stung my ego just a bit. When a man has spent a night making love to a woman the last thing he wants to hear is her obvious admiration for his father. Before I could take too much offense however, she turned back to me, and the look she gave me eased any sting her earlier comment had infected.

"You look very much like him," she added with a coy smile before kissing me softly. When we broke apart she put that same coy smile back in place. "When are you to meet him?"

"Not for a while yet."

As I'd reminded myself countless times on this trip, Pappy was a grown man, and he had a great appreciation for the opposite sex. He'd understand if I was a little late.


	11. Bart - Danielle

Bart – Danielle

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was a burgundy-colored feather. It was practically lying under my nose and was still attached to Danielle's brunette hair. The only other thing attached to Danielle was me. My, she was a beautiful girl, from the top of that feather to the tip of her toes. And every inch of her was intertwined with every inch of me.

This was not entirely unexpected when Bret and me went backstage after the show. It was hoped for, after the day the two of us had suffered through, but it was more of a wish than an expectation. There were girls everywhere, some from the local dancing group, the rest from the French Can-Can contingent. Most of them now had a gentleman with them, as did Danielle and Colette once we found them. The girls were, indeed, French, but spoke English with a delightful French accent.

We drank champagne and ate delicate French pastries until it was time for the second show, which we got to view from backstage. The can-can ended differently than the first show did, with only those girls that had not chosen their partners for the night going out into the audience. By the time midnight came, no one that was backstage was feeling any pain. Danielle leaned over and asked, "Monsieur Bart, you have a room here, no?"

"Danielle, I have a suite here, yes. Come with me?"

She giggled and said "Oui." We tried to be quiet as we walked through the hallways to the suite, but we were both giggling when we got to the room. I remember unlocking the door and the two of us hurrying to my bedroom, and that she had the most delightful kiss. We must have had a wonderful night because the next thing I remember was the burgundy feather. And the scent of a woman.

We must have laid there for two hours or more; kissing, snuggling, whispering in each other's ear, and, of course, partaking of the delights one shares with a member of the opposite sex. I would have stayed in bed happily for the rest of the day were it not for the persistent knocking at my bedroom door. I finally pulled a blanket over the woman in my arms and yelled, "Come in Pappy." And he did.

Of course, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that I wasn't alone. "What is going on around here?" he asked out loud, which led me to believe he'd found my brother in a similar position.

"We went to see the Can-Can last night," I explained, and a long, lithe leg peeked out from beneath the blanket.

"Are you ever gettin' up?" Pappy asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Why?"

"I have to leave," he announced. "Olivia is being bothered by that Martin fellow again."

"Go right ahead," I told him. "I'll be along later today. Is Bret going with you?"

Pappy snorted. "That . . . is no more ready to go with me than you are. I'll see you both in the dining salon at two o'clock. ALONE." The door closed and I could hear him stomping all the way out of the suite.

"You call him Pappy. Is that really your father?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is."

"You should have brought him with you to the show. He would have found a girl of his own." And she giggled.

"Oh, he already has one of those," I explained. "Not to change the subject, but are you hungry?"

"Oui, I could stand to eat. And you, too, Monsieur Bart?"

"And me too, Danielle. But we have to get dressed first."

"Oui."

It was another hour before we got out of bed and left my bedroom. Brother Bret's bedroom door was still closed.


	12. Bart - Pappy, Poker and Women

Bart – Pappy, Poker and Women

I'd had a most productive afternoon, sittin' in the gaming salon playin' five card draw. Besides profitable it was soothing, and was exactly what I needed after spending a night with Danielle. The only thing that would have been as comforting would have been an afternoon with the leggy can-can girl. That was not to be, however, but there was always tonight to look forward to.

I gathered my winnings and made my apologies. "Sorry, gentlemen, I have a previous engagement that forces me to leave. It was a pleasure playing with you." I stood up and tipped my hat, hurrying to be on time for our meetin' with Pappy. I found him, sitiin' by himself in the dining room, and he looked a little lost. So far this birthday trip hadn't turned out the way he was expectin' it to, either.

"Well, at least one of you's on time." He sounded . . . disappointed. Before it actually turned two o'clock, I saw Bret hurrying through tables and booths, doing his best to get there, and wearin' a smile on his face. It was nice to see my brother in a good mood.

"Barely made it, boy," Pappy pointed out, but it didn't change Bret's smile. "Did you have lunch yet?"

"I did, Pappy," Bret replied happily.

"With Collette?" I asked mischievously.

"As a matter of fact, yes. What about you and Danielle?"

"We parted a little earlier than I'd hoped for." I turned my attention to Pappy. "You and Olivia?"

"No, she had lunch with a friend. And I'm about starved. Here, waiter, here!" And Pappy beckoned a waiter over to the table. "We'll have two club sandwiches, and all three will have coffee." He turned to Bret. "I assume coffee is good for you?"

Bret smiled, and the dimples appeared. "Yes, sir, just fine."

"Want to see another can-can show tonight?" I asked.

The dimples stayed in place. "I already am. I'm going to see Collette in the first show, then play a little poker and meet her after the second one."

"Enough with the can-can show. You two act like you're twelve years old."

"It wouldn't have been near as much fun if we were twelve years old." I got an ugly look from Pappy and a 'thumbs up' look from Brother Bret. I'd see if Bret's plan of action would work for Danielle. I was sure it would.

"Alright, Pappy, you wanted us here at two o'clock, and we're here. Now what did you want us for?"

The waiter came by with coffee and Pappy was momentarily silent. "Obviously, I had something to discuss with you."

"Regarding the man you pushed in the lake?"

I caught Bret AND Pappy by surprise. "Not quite as dumb as I look, am I?"

"Nobody ever said you were dumb, Bart. Just a slow learner."

"Never mind that. What is it about this guy, Pappy? Who is Elwood Singer? He ain't just some dumb card cheat. Is he?"

Before Pappy could answer, the waiter brought lunch. Pappy wasn't the only one that was starved and the food, once again, was excellent. We were practically silent as we wolfed it down, and explanations didn't resume until we were more than half done. "No, he's not a card sharp. If he is, he's about the worst I've ever seen. Remember when we had it out with Vic Hansboro?"

How could either one of us forget? We were both sure that Pappy was dead, gunned down for revenge by Hansboro. We considered ourselves lucky that Pappy's watch had deflected the bullet, and the doctor was able to get it out. Hansboro wasn't so lucky.

"There's still the matter of the missing twenty-thousand dollars from the bank. I think Singer is after it."

Bret and me looked at each other. That would explain things. Elwood Singer was probably a lot of things, but a card sharp wasn't one of them. But if he was a bounty hunter or an insurance man lookin' for the money . . . and since Pappy was the one that supposedly had the money . . . it made sense for Singer to be doggin' him. "So what do we do about him?" Bret asked.

"I ain't sure yet," Pappy answered. "We could wait and see what happens. He's bound to tip his hand sooner or later. There's still an open reward on the funds."

"Are you seein' Olivia tonight?" I asked Pappy.

"Yes, sir. Got a supper engagement for six o'clock. Then we're goin' for a carriage ride around New Orleans. I know where the two of you are gonna be, so don't bother to pretend."

I finished my lunch and got up to go, leaving more than enough money on the table to cover the bill. "My God, did you see the wad of money Brother Bart's got? Did you rob a bank?" Bret was laughing as he asked the question.

"I played poker all afternoon. And I won all afternoon, I'll have you know. Don' get lost, you two. Brother Bret, I'll see you in the can-can room at five o'clock. Pappy, mañana."

I had to hurry if I was goin' to ask Danielle about tonight. I had some cleanin' up to do before five o'clock. I rushed through the hotel and got to the showroom just as the girls were finishing their rehearsal. Danielle and me saw each other about the same time, and she gave me a little flirty wave and a big smile. We met in the middle of the stage, and as we hugged I whispered in her ear, "How about I watch the first show, go play some poker, and pick you up after the second show? We can have a late supper, and then . . . "

"Oui, Bart. It sounds perfect. Come to the rear stage door after the second show. That one right there, see?" And she pointed her finger ever so daintily at the correct door.

We kissed, and I whispered in her ear what I intended to do to her. A big smile spread across her face, and she whispered in my ear what she was gonna do to me. I was fascinated. We kissed again and parted; she went to her dressing room and I went to take a hot bath, shave and change clothes. I was laboring under the mistaken notion that the worst part of the trip was over. I was delusional.


	13. Bart - What Next?

Bart – What Next?

I'm happy to report that the French Can-Can loses none of its appeal with repetition. We clapped, whistled, yelled, stomped and made as much noise as we were capable of during the show, and ended up with Danielle and Collette in our laps at the end. This time the girls walked back to their dressing rooms without us, but with a promise that we would be there by the end of the second show.

The Brothers Maverick then headed for the gaming room, and I was tempted to try my hand at faro. It's not my favorite pastime but I play it fairly well, and it moves so fast that it keeps your mind from wandering off. I made my decision when the only poker table available was for seven card stud, and that is definitely not something I enjoy doing a lot of.

An hour into the faro game I was up over a thousand dollars, but I was bored and cashed out. I passed by the roulette wheels and decided that was tempting fate too much, and quickly found myself at a blackjack table. I would have passed it by, but one of the players at the table was . . . Martin Langley. And he wasn't alone. Blackjack is one of the few games that women are allowed to participate in, and the blackjack tables are usually near the back entrance to the saloon or casino so that 'Madame' might slip in and out of the gaming room discreetly.

At the table nearest this particular back door (not the one that Pappy forced Elwood Singer out of) stood Martin Langley with a lady – another fine, young southern lady. As a matter of fact, she reminded me a lot of Olivia Ames. There was something vaguely familiar about her; as if I'd seen her somewhere before. She looked mildly amused, but her companion was anything but. Martin looked . . . Irritated. Angry. Frustrated. And unhappy.

I stopped at the table and made a small wager. I beat the house, Martin didn't. He looked less and less like a man that was having a good time. That's when the girl leaned over and whispered something in his ear, which was followed by a kiss on the cheek. Finally she got him to smile and place another bet, this time he won and I lost. He picked up his money and they walked away, and I watched them head for the door. The girl said something about 'starved' and I assumed them going to the dining salon. That was all I could get from their conversation, and I didn't have time to follow them; I had to meet Bret and the girls.

I got back to the can-can show just in time to see the finish. Bret had a seat at one of the tables but there were no empty chairs, so I waited until the girls had retreated to their dressing rooms and followed him backstage. As soon as Danielle and Collette were changed we whisked them off to a champagne and steak dinner, then brandy to finish off the meal. The four of us returned to our stateroom just as Pappy was coming in for the night. I needed five minutes with Pappy and Bret, and the ladies were content to wait in the sitting room for us. I ushered the three of us into Pappy's bedroom and told them what I had seen at the blackjack table.

"You sure it was Martin?" Bret asked.

"Positive."

"And you have no idea who the girl was with him at blackjack?"

"None at all."

"What did she look like?" Pappy asked finally speaking up. He'd been quiet up until now, but it was obvious he was thinking hard about what I'd just told him.

"A slightly different version of Olivia," I explained. "Young, petite, blonde hair, draped all over Martin."

"What are you gonna do, Pappy?" was the next question out of Bret's mouth. He sounded . . . wary.

"I . . . don't know, Bret. I need time to think about this. Bartley . . . "

"She could have been anyone, Pa."

"Did she kiss him?"

"Just on the cheek."

Pappy grunted in reply.

Bret headed for the door; I had a feeling he was trying to make a quick getaway before he got pulled into something. "This ain't gettin' us nowhere. We gotta go, Pappy; the ladies . . . "

Pappy waved him off. "I know all about the ladies, Bret. Go take care of 'em. I ain't gonna do nothin' tonight, anyway."

"Goodnight, Pappy."

"Night, Pappy."

I followed Bret back out into the sitting room and collected Danielle. "Everything is alright, oui?" she asked.

It wasn't, but there was nothing I could do about it tonight. "Oui," I replied. I closed my bedroom door behind us.


	14. Bret - Too Much Time

Bret—Too Much Time

Another night with Collette like our previous one wasn't meant to be as she ended up leaving me pretty early that morning. Something about having to get back to her room because of a curfew that had been placed on the troupe. Apparently, she and Danielle weren't the only ones who had thoroughly enjoyed themselves the night before. The manager hadn't liked how sluggish some of the girls had been at rehearsal earlier, hence the curfew. I wasn't going to complain, a short night was better than no night at all, but I'd been wide awake when Collette left and I still was. That meant I had time to think. Too much time.

That might have been fine if I'd been able to think about something like Collette, but I couldn't be that lucky. The only thing running through my head today was what Bart had told me and Pappy about Langley and the girl. Thanks to that bit of news, the Langley situation had me more confused than ever, and really I wished I could just forget the whole thing. I tried telling myself that what the boy did was none of my business, except I sort of felt like it was. Like it or not, Olivia had gotten to me. I didn't like the way she seemed to have wormed her way into my father's affections but as far as I could tell, she was a sweet girl. I don't know if she had any intentions of going through with her marriage to Martin or not, but if she did, it seemed like she deserved to know about what Bart had seen. I'd want to know if I was in that position.

Knowing Pappy the way I do, I was pretty sure he'd come to the same conclusion as me, that Olivia needed to know, and I have to say I didn't envy him the job. How do you tell a girl her gentleman friend was seen stepping out with another woman? More importantly, how does a woman react when she hears something like that? I have no idea how much Olivia cared for Martin, it's not as though you have to love someone to marry them, but I couldn't imagine the news would be well received.

I sighed and tried to fluff my pillow up some. I could see it all now. Pappy would tell Olivia what Bart had seen because he thought she needed to know. Olivia would then dissolve into tears because Martin had found someone else. Pappy wouldn't be able to see a lady hurt that way so he'd try to comfort her in his own bizarre way, then Olivia . . . . I sat straight up in bed. This was not good. Not good at all.

No matter what happened I couldn't see this ending in any way but disaster. If Olivia didn't care, that meant she was really through with Martin. Given how Langley had been pestering me since Pappy and Olivia had met, I didn't think he'd take losing her for good too well. That would mean even more trouble for us. If she did care for him, she'd be heartbroken to find out he was with someone else. I didn't particularly want to see that, but there was an even bigger problem with that scenario. Pappy. Olivia was already so taken with Pappy that a broken heart might be the very thing that would push her right into Pappy's arms for good. Even if she didn't care for Martin, finding out he was through with her might also be just what she needed to fall for Pappy completely.

I jumped out of bed and started dressing. The more I thought about it, the more sense Bart and his earlier reasoning about Pappy and Olivia made. A broken heart might be just what was needed for her to say "let's get married" and I was no longer certain Pappy would say no. I needed to talk to Pappy, now. Maybe Olivia really didn't need to know about Martin and the girl. At the very least, maybe Pappy needed to think long and hard about how that news would be delivered.

I was still trying to button my vest when I left my room and hurried over to Pappy's. When my knock wasn't answered I tried again and called to Pappy. There was still no reply. My fear that Pappy was already gone was confirmed when I opened the door and found the room empty. I muttered a curse as I started for Bart's room.

It isn't that I necessarily have an issue with Pappy getting married again; I got over that a while ago. It would be nice if the lady in question was older than me however. I don't think asking that he know her longer than a few days was unreasonable either. It would also be nice if a former lover wasn't following us around too. Nope, any way I looked at it, Olivia Ames was just a bad idea.

I got to Bart's door and started knocking. There was no immediate answer but I didn't let that stop me. I kept knocking until I finally heard "go away" come from the other side of the door.

I grinned, at least I finally had him awake. "Bart," I said quietly.

"What do you want?" was the next thing I heard from my brother but before I could answer that question it was followed by "Open the door."

I hoped Danielle was as good about following the rules as Collette was and had already left too. If she hadn't, well, Bart was just going to have to pull himself away because I needed him. The whole Maverick clan might need him.


	15. Bart - Hurry and Wait

Bart – Hurry and Wait

It was the persistent knocking on my door that finally woke me sometime the next morning. "Go away," I called, not that it did any good.

At last I heard a whispered, "Bart," and recognized Bret's voice.

"What do you want? Open the door." He wasn't about to see anything he hadn't seen a thousand times before; me in bed by myself. Danielle had left quietly some hour or two earlier. The troupe's manager had called a nine a.m. bed check for this morning . . . seems some of the girls were too tired at night to perform. He wanted to know who was getting enough rest and who wasn't. I assumed that Collette had already left, too.

The door opened, and Bret came in as soon as he saw me alone. "Pappy's gone." He sounded worried.

"So?"

"He must have gone to tell Olivia what you saw last night."

"I expected him to."

"What do you think she'll do?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead, but now that he'd brought it up . . . I flung the covers back and practically jumped out of bed. "I think we better go find out."

I dressed as fast as I could while Bret waited for me. The idea of taking my gun with me didn't cross my mind until I was about ready to leave the room, but at the last minute I strapped it on. "Just in case?" Bret asked.

"Just in case," I answered.

We went straight to the dining room, where it wasn't hard to locate Pappy and Olivia. They were just finishing breakfast, and once again he had her giggling over some tale he'd told her. It was apparent he hadn't informed her about Martin and the blonde.

Pappy looked up as we approached. "Well, boys, I'd ask you to join us, but as you can see, we're already done. You're welcome to the table if you want breakfast. I'll send the waiter over."

"Pappy, can we borrow you for five minutes?" Bret queried. "Somethin's come up you need to know about."

"It won't wait?"

"No, sir, it won't wait. Just five minutes."

Someone who didn't know Pappy well might not have seen it, but I could tell he wasn't happy with us at that moment. "Will you excuse me, Olivia?"

"Of course, Beauregard. I'll be right here."

We walked fifteen feet away from the table before Pappy said,"What?!"

"You didn't tell her?" Again, from Bret.

Pappy looked indignant. "Not yet, no. She wanted to see the city in the daylight, so we're goin' out on another carriage ride. I'm gonna tell her then, where she can get upset without half the hotel seeing her."

Bret looked like he wasn't sure what to say to that. "Good idea," he finally replied. "We'll . . . be around here today. If you need us."

Pappy raised an eyebrow and I could tell he was wondering why Bret thought he might possibly need us before he went back to the table, and Olivia. My brother and me exchanged glances. "You think there's somethin' goin' on there?" I asked.

"Yes. No. I ain't sure. What about you?"

"I think we better keep an eye on him."

"Him or her?"

"That's the problem, ain't it? Which one don't we trust?"

"Both of 'em," Bret stated unequivocally.

"Think it's about time we started thinkin' about goin' home?"

Bret sighed. "I think we've already passed the time we should have thought about that, but it might not be a bad idea."

"Let's see how today goes."

Bret grunted. After a minute he sighed again. "You thought about what might happen between them if she ends up with a broken heart?"

"Yep. Like I said, let's see how today goes."

"I guess you're right."

I looked around the dining room that Pappy and Olivia had just left. "Want some breakfast?" Bret's usually always open to eating.

Bret shrugged. "Why not? Nothin' else we can do for the moment."

We sat down at an empty table, and I waved the waiter over. One could only hope Bret's fears were just an overreaction. I wasn't totally convinced but I was hoping.


	16. Bart - Killing Time

Bart – Killing Time

We sat at that table in the dining salon for a long time. Nothing on this trip had gone the way we'd expected or planned it to, and we were just worn out. Pappy had spent more time with Olivia than either of us, which was not the kind of birthday present we were aiming for. Still, he seemed to be amused most of the time, so maybe he was having a better time than we expected.

We were worried about the way the situation with Olivia was progressing, and were trying to figure out a way to keep them from gettin' any closer. Pappy has been known to make extravagant gestures at times, especially when there was a lady in distress involved, and the last thing my brother and me wanted was to head back to Little Bend with a new step-mother. Especially one younger than the both of us. So we sat and drank coffee and plotted and schemed. Not that we were able to come up with anything that held any promise.

Neither of us had said anything for a few minutes when Bret asked a question I didn't have an answer for. "Why do you suppose he attracts all the young ones?" There was a note of complete and utter bafflement in his voice.

My brother was right; for some reason they were always young. The only woman even remotely close to his own age that he'd ever shown any interest in was Maude Donovan. "I don't know. Maybe they're lookin' for a daddy. Maybe they feel safe with him."

Bret nodded. "He does tend to protect them. Just like with Olivia and Martin. The true southern gentleman. That can't be all, can it?" I'd been fidgeting for the last few minutes and couldn't sit here any longer; answers or no answers I needed to do the only thing that would ease my mind . . . and that was poker.

I reached for my wallet and left money on the table, then stood up and started to walk away. Bret's hand snaked out and grabbed me by the arm, preventing me from leaving him behind. "Poker room?" he queried.

"Yes, sir," I answered hastily. "I need to do somethin' that makes some sense. You comin' with me?"

Bret didn't hesitate. "Why not? Sittin' here ain't doin' us any good."

Truer words were never spoken.

By the time we'd walked through the gaming room twice we'd been forced to come to a conclusion – everybody residing in the hotel must have been playing poker. I turned towards the faro games and Bret followed me, not that he would play any, but he seemed reluctant to let me out of his sight. Finally I decided playing faro would do, since nothing else was available. Like I said before, for some reason I was good at it, and it was easy to get into a rhythm. "When did you start playin' this?" Bret asked, and I had to stop and think.

"When I was workin' for Sally Bodeen in Dodge. She taught me all the tricks Pappy taught us for poker, and I seemed to have a real talent for it. Then I started runnin' the faro bank and beatin' the house regularly, without the tricks."

"Looks like you could make more money at this than at poker."

"Sometimes. Not always, Brother Bret. And it's nowhere near as entertaining." I played for another half hour before two or three spots opened up at the poker tables, and Bret and me both made the move back to the game we loved.

We played on and off for the rest of the afternoon, until it was time to go get cleaned up and changed for supper. When we got back to the stateroom we discovered we'd both won a considerable amount of money, and it appeared we were headed for a pleasant evening. You'll notice I said 'appeared.'

Next on the agenda was a bath. Pappy had the same idea; he was just headed off to take one as big brother and me returned. "What time are you pickin' Olivia up?" I asked as we passed in the corridor.

"Six o'clock."

"We'll meet you in the stateroom. We wanna hear how it went when you told her . . ."

"About Martin and his blonde." Pappy made a face that indicated it hadn't gone well. "Be there at five thirty."

"Yes, sir," Bret answered for both of us as Pappy never broke stride.

"THAT didn't sound good."

I shook my head. "Didn't look good, either. Guess we just have to wait and see."


	17. Bret - The Fight

Bret – The Fight

As requested, me and Bart were both in the stateroom at 5:30 sharp waiting on Pappy, and he walked out of his room at 5:30 on the dot. Knowing Pappy, he'd been watching the clock just waiting for 5:30 to roll around so he could make his entrance. Pappy's been known to be a tad dramatic.

"I see you both made it," he said casually as he sat down and lit a cigar.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"What happened with Olivia?" Bart jumped in.

Pappy sighed and looked at the tip of his cigar for a moment. "Well . . . she took it better than I expected."

"What do you mean?" I asked nervously. If Olivia was joining us for supper I assumed she wasn't inconsolable, but I was curious as to what exactly Pappy meant, and whether that was good or bad for the relationship the two of them seemed to be creating.

"She was calm. Cried some but didn't get hysterical on me. I don't think she has too much interest in seeing him right now though."

"According to Martin, she hasn't had that interest in several days."

Pappy looked at me sharply. "You've talked to him?"

"I've seen him around a couple of times. He's not too happy about all this."

"He been causing problems for you?"

I shook my head. "Nah; I haven't even seen him today." Sure, Langley may have annoyed me some, but I wasn't going to get Pappy involved. As long as Martin just watched and wandered after us like a lost puppy, I could handle the little bit of dust he kicked up. Besides, given the fact he'd been seen with someone else last night, and I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him today I wasn't sure even that little dust storm was still going to be a problem. "He just mentioned Olivia wouldn't talk to him," I added.

Pappy actually chuckled then. "She hasn't made things easy for him, that's for sure."

I exchanged a look with Bart and could tell he was thinking the same thing I was; we were both dying to know exactly what was going on between Pappy and Olivia and wondering how to broach the subject. I knew Bart didn't want to get Pappy worked up any more than I did and if we were wrong he would certainly get worked up. But if we were right and we wanted to stop anything from happening we were running out of time.

Bart took a deep breath. "Pappy?"

I grimaced and tried to prepare myself for whatever reaction Pappy would give us. Part of me thought Bart was crazy, but the other part said it was better to force the issues now before we ended up taking Mrs. Maverick back to Little Bend with us.

"Yes, son?"

"How's Olivia now?"

I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that Bart decided not to push the issue just yet. Meanwhile, Pappy sighed out loud. "Quiet," he said. "And I don't like it."

"Why's that?" I asked. Seemed to me there were a lot worse things she could be.

"Eh, I don't know what to do with them when they're quiet. Mad's easy to handle, even crying's not too bad, but I just don't know what they're thinking when they're quiet." He crushed out his cigar and lay what was left in an ashtray before standing. "I've got to pick up Olivia. See you boys at dinner."

It wasn't until Pappy left that I turned to Bart. "You had me worried there for a minute, Brother Bart."

Bart raised his eyebrow. "Now just how stupid do you think I am, Brother Bret? If he's in a decent mood and not acting like a schoolboy, let's try to keep him that way."

"I couldn't agree more. So what do you think?"

Bart crossed his arms and looked to the door Pappy had just left out of. "I don't know. Seems to be acting a bit more like himself. Let's see how supper goes."

I stood up and reached for my coat. "Good idea. Maybe seeing Olivia in person will shed more light on the situation. Besides, he can't get married tonight anyway."

"He could always bang on a preacher's door in the middle of the night."

Bart seemed to realize what he said about the same time I did. We both froze and looked at each other a minute. "He wouldn't do that. Would he?"

We were thinking the same thing; it was Pappy and he was libel to do anything. Bart groaned and finished slipping his coat on. "Let's just get through dinner first."

XXXXXXXX

We met Pappy and Olivia in the dining room, and I immediately noticed a difference in Olivia. No, she didn't look like a girl who'd been crying her eyes out all day, but she was definitely more subdued than I'd ever seen her. She still smiled at us and kept up a pleasant conversation, but she wasn't quite as jovial as she'd been all the other times we'd been around her.

I watched her and Pappy carefully throughout the meal looking for any sign that Pappy was acting as anything more than a kindly older man showing her the city, or any sign that she saw him that way. I didn't pick on anything in particular, but I was still worried. From what I'd seen of Olivia, she was a lady. She wouldn't fawn all over a man in public, no matter how she felt about him. Pappy was much the same. He's a son of the south and when it comes to a lady, he's always a gentleman, even if there are times he'll vehemently deny it.

The meal was finished rather quickly and by the time Pappy and Olivia were ready to go, the situation was just as foggy to me as it had been earlier. I didn't know how Olivia felt about her fiancé or ex-fiancé or whatever Martin was, and I still didn't know what Pappy's intentions were.

"Well, boys, I think we'll take our leave now," Pappy said as he stood and offered Olivia his hand. Me and Bart also stood as Pappy helped her to her feet and both said goodnight.

Olivia gave us a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she hooked her arm through Pappy's. "Goodnight, Bret; Bart. I'm glad you could join us this evening."

"It was our pleasure," Bart told her giving her one of those dazzling grins of his.

"Indeed it was," I added.

"Night, boys," Pappy said. "Behave yourselves tonight."

I wondered if that was his subtle way of asking we refrain from any Can-Can shows tonight. Pappy's not usually known for being subtle, but I knew he wouldn't discuss the show directly, not in front of Olivia. I grinned. "Not to worry Pappy. We're just gonna go find us a nice friendly poker game."

"Yep," Bart chimed in. "Nothing can go wrong with that."

Pappy gave us a look and sort of grunted in reply. "Come along, my dear," he said addressing Olivia. "There's nothing like a nice walk after dinner."

Olivia smiled again and I couldn't help but notice this one looked more sincere than the one Bart and I had gotten earlier, leaving me wondering yet again what really was going on between the two of them.

"That wasn't very helpful," I told Bart as we watched Pappy escort Olivia out of the dining room. "We don't know any more now than we did before."

"Nope."

I crossed my arms and sighed. "I don't know, Bart, do you think he really cares about her?"

"Oh, I'm sure he does," Bart replied. "The question is how does he care for her, and how much."

"Doesn't seem like either one of them feel like sharing the answers to those questions. But let's go find that poker game, shall we?"

"That, Brother Bret, is the best idea you've had all day."

"I thought you'd approve."

We left the dining room and made our way over to the casino. As soon as I stepped into the room, I stopped and took a deep breath. I'm a poker player, and I'll pick up a game wherever I can, but there's just something about playing in a place like this. Most often I find myself in dusty saloons or two-bit mining camps, but I have to say, there are times a man just wants good cigars and plush carpets and high stakes. Nothing about this trip had gone the way I'd thought it would and I hadn't spent nearly enough time in this room, but I planned on changing that tonight.

"Gonna find a poker game?" I asked Bart as he lit up a cigar. "Or are you gonna run off and find some disreputable game like faro or roulette tonight?"

Bart laughed. "Just poker tonight; I need somethin' that makes sense."

"Ain's that the truth. Well, have fun," I said slapping him on the shoulder. "Try not to get into too much trouble."

"Right."

I turned to go find a game and stopped dead in my tracks. Martin Langley was crossing the casino floor, coming directly towards us. "Oh, no," I mumbled.

"What?"

I sighed. "Look who's comin' our way."

Bart followed my line of sight and groaned. "Can't catch a break, can we?"

I shook my head and gave Bart a nudge. "Go," I said quietly. I didn't think Langley had seen me yet and there was no reason for another confrontation if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, Langley was faster than we were and Bart had barely taken a step when Langley did see us.

"Maverick," he called across the room. I could have ignored him and we'd all have probably been better off if I had, but I noticed several people turn our way at his shout. I wasn't in a hurry to make myself a spectacle so I decided to bite the bullet and just deal with him now.

"Langley," I said as pleasantly as I could once he was closer.

Langley said nothing else but continued to stalk towards me. If the man's slight stagger was any indication, he was drunk, and the look in his eyes was definitely anger. I almost groaned myself; this was not going to go well.

"Where is she?" Langley demanded when he reached us.

I winced at the smell of alcohol coming off him; definitely drunk. "Who?" I asked innocently. I don't know why I said it. Common sense should tell a man it isn't wise to provoke someone with a grievance, real or imagined, against you, especially when that person is drunk, but I said it anyway. Langley didn't appreciate it.

"You know who," He all but growled taking a step closer. "Now where is she?"

"I don't know," I said, quite honestly I might add. I had no idea where Olivia and Pappy had run off to. "Not with me, obviously."

"Still with your old man?"

"I guess so." I didn't even bother to comment on the old man part. I just wanted Langley to move along.

Langley's eyes flashed. "Why? What is she doing?"

"I don't know." Again, I couldn't have been more honest.

Langley scoffed bitterly and glared first at me than Bart then me again. "I tried seeing her again this afternoon. She refused. She wouldn't come down to see me, she wouldn't talk to me. The only thing I could get out of her was I should know what the problem was. Now I want to know what's going on."

For the first time, I almost felt sorry for the boy. I mean is there any man alive who can understand a woman? On top of that, I'd love to know what was going on myself. The fact was, however, I just couldn't help him, with either of his problems. I sighed heavily. "You know, Langley, I wish I could tell you. I really do, but I can't. As I have told you many times, I can't help you. If you want to know what's going on, you'll have to talk to either Olivia or my father. Good luck with that."

I stepped around Langley then. I couldn't make myself any plainer than I'd already been. I could sympathize with him because I was just as lost as he was, but I couldn't help him and I wasn't in the mood to put up with his drunken belligerence any longer. No wonder Pappy has always told us not to drink.

Well, I may have been done with Langley, but he wasn't done with me. No sooner had I stepped around him than I felt something, or rather someone, reach out and grab me. I was just about to shake the grip off of my arm when I heard a sharp "Hey" come from behind me. The yell hadn't come from just anyone though; it was without a doubt my brother's voice. The grip on my arm fell off, and I whirled around just in time to see Langley ball up his fist and land a solid right cross that skidded across Bart's face. Bart hit the floor and instinct took over.

I could have forgiven Langley a lot; him following me around, all these unwanted conversations, even him pestering me about Pappy. Up until right now, I could have forgotten all about that, but no one takes a swing at my little brother for no reason. No one. I'm usually a lover, not a fighter, but I wasn't going to stand around and let Langley beat up on my brother, especially not when poor Bart was totally innocent in all this mess. If Langley wanted a fight, I was more than willing to give him one.

Without a thought to where I was or even what I was doing really, I closed the distance between us and yanked Langley around. Balling up my own fist I threw a punch at Langley catching him on the jaw. I smiled with grim satisfaction as he staggered back a few steps. That ought to teach him to go around dragging my brother into his fights.

Langley was able to stay on his feet but just barely. I was actually surprised he was able to do even that in his drunken state, but I felt like I'd made my point. He was bent over, hands on his knees, looking like he was trying to either catch his breath or clear his head, maybe both. Either way, I didn't think he'd be a problem anymore, so I turned my attention to Bart. My brother was back on his feet; hand over his cheek, looking a little bewildered. I was just about to ask him if he was alright when I was jerked around and a sharp pain shot across my cheek.

I didn't see Bart dart past me because of the stars dancing across my field of vision, but I did hear another punch land and a grunt of pain. I would have been satisfied with that except I felt Bart crash into me a split second later and realized Langley, not Bart, had landed the punch. The pain from Langley's punch settled into a dull ache and my vision cleared so I could finally see what kind of damage the man had inflicted on my brother. I didn't know which blow was responsible for what injury, but a small trickle of blood was coming from Bart's lip, and a welt was around his left eye. Needless to say, I wasn't happy about either one.

I helped steady Bart and then rushed Langley again. I heard someone yelling from across the casino but didn't pay attention to it. I was focused only on Langley now. I'd made a mistake earlier. I'd assumed Langley was too drunk to do much damage and had underestimated just what he was capable of. Well, I was through with thinking that way. It was time to get serious, get dirty, and it was no holds barred. Yes, sir, if Martin Langley wanted a fight, I'd give him one.


	18. Bart - Gut Punched

Bart – Gut Punched

I rested my head against the bars of the jail cell. My left eye hurt, and I was sure when all was said and done I'd have a black eye. That wasn't the only thing hurtin'; my jaw felt swollen and my mouth was sore. I turned my head slightly to the right and got a good look at my brother. He didn't look much better than I felt; both eyes were closed and puffy, and there was a large red welt forming on his cheek. "What hurts?" I asked him, and he never moved a muscle.

"Everything," Bret answered. "How many of him were there?"

"Just the one." I was pretty sure of that. How could one person inflict so much damage on two of us?

My brother still hadn't opened his eyes. "Pappy's gonna kill us."

Then we heard the voice that could still put fear into our hearts. "Maybe. Maybe not."

I jumped to our defense. "Pappy, he started it . . ."

"Quiet, Bartley. There are two of you. You should be ashamed."

"We didn't wanna hurt him, Pappy." I winced when Bret spoke up. Pappy wasn't impressed with the remark, either.

"That's your excuse?" I could hear the disdain in the voice, and I turned my head so I didn't have to see his face. ""You didn't want to hurt him, Breton?"

"He did start it, Pappy. He was doggin' Bret on the River Belle, and he's been aggravatin' him ever since." I could tell by the look I got from Pappy that it was time for me to shut up and let my brother speak for himself.

"Well, Breton?" Whatever patience Pappy had was in short supply at three o'clock in the morning.

"Bart's right, Martin Langley's been followin' me around ever since you took up with Olivia."

"Took up with Olivia?" That disdainful tone was back in Pappy's voice, the kind he used when he'd gotten into it with Elwood Singer. Haughty and cold. He'd just put Bret on a short leash.

"Martin was her fiancé. When you stepped in to help her, she quit speaking to him. He keeps followin' me, thinkin' that because we look alike I'll have some kind of influence over her. It doesn't matter what I tell him, he doesn't believe me."

"So you assault the man in the middle of the gaming salon?" Pappy looked at me, like I was the one that was supposed to answer him. I knew better. Big Brother was more than capable of gettin' himself out of hot water. Except when he wasn't.

"What was I supposed to do? He hauled off and slugged Bart for no reason. My brother's layin' on the floor and the man's gettin' ready to hit me next!" That wasn't exactly the way it happened. Langley was tryin' to chew Bret's ear off, and big brother turned his back on the spurned fiancé. When Martin reached out and grabbed Bret by the arm to turn him back around, I took exception to the manhandling and pulled Martin off of Bret. That's when Langley hit me. I was sprawled on the casino floor when the 'brawl' started.

Pappy looked confused, like he'd just heard three different versions of the same event. The marshal was about fifteen feet away at his desk, and that's who Pa turned to for the official version. "Marshal, much as I hate to admit it right now, these two belong to me. What are they charged with and what's their bail?"

"Five hundred dollars. Each." The lawman had a grin on his face that just wouldn't quit. "And they're charged with drunk and disorderly." According to all the witnesses to the brawl, the brothers he had behind bars were responsible for most of the damage done to the hotel. "And a thousand dollar fine for property damage."

The sound of disgust had crept back into Pappy's voice. "So, two thousand dollars to get both of them out. And that's all? You know we're leavin' town in the mornin'?"

The smile on the marshal's face got even bigger. "Four thousand dollars if y'all don't leave. And I will be checkin' the hotel to make sure you're gone. We got enough troublemakers in this town as it is."

Pappy's glare wandered from Bret 's face to mine and back again. "You do that, marshal. We'll be on the boat that leaves for Houston." He aimed his scowl in my direction. "Drunk and disorderly, Bartley? Drunk? Didn't I tell you not to drink that stuff?" There was something else in his voice now, and it sounded like pain. "Didn't I tell you often enough what happens when you drink?"

"But, we . . . " I started.

Bret's voice cut in, and it was angry. "We weren't drunk, Pappy. Neither one of us had a drop of anything but coffee. Langley was drunk, but not us."

Without Pappy's acknowledgment that he believed Bret, he resumed questioning the marshal. "What about the other fellow involved in all this? Was he drunk? And what's his bail?"

I guess the lawman didn't really have to answer Pappy, but he did. "Oh yes, Mr. Langley. Mr. Langley was also charged with drunk and disorderly, and his bail's already been paid. I released him about an hour ago."

"Who paid his bail?" I asked, expecting it to be the blonde I'd seen him with yesterday.

The marshal picked a piece of paper off his desk and read what was on it. "Martin Langley, charged with drunk and disorderly, bail set at five hundred dollars and fine imposed of an additional five hundred dollars. Paid in full by Miss Olivia Ames."

I stared at Bret, and Bret stared at Pappy. Pappy looked like he'd just been gut-punched. It took him a minute to recover. "Where do I pay the bail, marshal?"


	19. Bart - Southern Gentlemen

Bart – Southern Gentleman

"Any sign of him yet?"

My eyes darted back and forth along the hallway, searching in vain for any sign of Pappy. He'd left over two hours ago to talk to Olivia, and we'd seen or heard nothing from him since. Even I was worried by the length of time he'd been gone.

"None," was the only answer I could give Bret.

I pulled my head back inside the stateroom and closed the door, heaving a rather large sigh as I lowered myself onto the settee. "What could they be talkin' about all this time?"

Bret was pacing the length of the room. "He didn't look happy when he left."

"He hasn't looked happy since he had to bail us out of jail."

Bret grimaced. "That's true. You think he believes us about not being drunk yet?"

"He's got to." Nothing had been said about the altercation with Langley since we'd gotten back to the hotel, but it was pretty obvious, to everyone except the officers that had arrested us I guess, that neither of us was or had been drunk. Pappy's outburst earlier was probably nothing more than him being very unhappy about having to spend two thousand dollars to get us out of jail. He was probably pretty unhappy about us just plain being in jail, too.

"I guess you're right," Bret said. He stopped pacing and flopped down in the chair opposite me. The groan that followed that action told me Bret was just as stiff and sore as I was.

We sat in silence for some time before I heard footsteps in the hall. I was about to get up again when the door swung open and a familiar face appeared. Pappy looked subdued when he came in, and I didn't like it. Difficult as he can be, he is my father, and I don't want to see him hurt any more than I do Bret. I may have been the one that started the whole get rid of Olivia thing, but Pappy deserved to be happy. If Olivia was what made him happy, we should be able to accept her. No matter how hard the idea of them together was to swallow.

"How ya doin', Pappy?"

"Just fine, Bartley." I wondered if that was all I was going to get.

"Did you see Olivia?"

"I did."

"And?"

Pappy sat down. "We have an understanding."

"I'm sorry." And I was, for everything. Having been such a pain about Olivia before, all the twists and turns this trip had taken from the start, the fight, getting arrested, his trouble with Olivia now, all of it.

Pappy gave me a look like he didn't quite understand me. "For what?"

"Does that mean . . ."

Bret interrupted. He seemed to be as confused as we were. "What kind of an understanding, Pappy?"

"Olivia knows we're leavin' in the mornin'." Pappy suddenly looked a little less burdened. "She sort of feels responsible for all this." I wanted to say she was right but I didn't think that would help anything.

Bret was nothing if not persistent. "What kind of an understanding?" he asked again. I could hear the strain in the words; would Pappy really offer matrimony to the girl?

There was a sigh, then Pappy delivered the news. "Olivia and Martin have reconciled."

"That's good, isn't it?" Big brother struggled mightily to keep the elation out of his voice. Don't get me wrong; I'm sure Bret wanted Pappy to be happy as much as I did. It's just that we hoped it would be with someone closer to his own . . . age.

A long pause ensued while Pappy pondered the question. Bret had delivered the inquiry, but it was me that he addressed the reply to. "I didn't lose the love of my life, Bartley. I knew she was gettin' ready to forgive him. Still, I can't say I wasn't just a bit disappointed by the way she went about it. I was thinkin' she'd . . . ." He shook his head and he sort of smirked. "Who knows why a woman does anything?"

Bret stood and circled around the back of the settee, where Pappy couldn't see his face and the smile slowly spreading across it. "What made her change her mind? I thought she wasn't speakin' to him?"

Pappy reached inside his coat and pulled out a cigar. He fiddled around for a minute before striking a match and lighting it, then drawing deeply on the stogie. There was just a tinge of melancholy in his voice as he repeated to us what Olivia had imparted to him.

 _That night we met on the riverboat . . . that wasn't the first time they'd quarreled. Nothing major, just a long string of petty disagreements that seemed to grow with each passin' day. Olivia couldn't even remember what that particular quarrel was about, she just knew she'd had enough to last for a good long while. She turned to walk away from him when he reached out and grabbed her arm – and that's when she saw me. Galant southern gentleman to the rescue, of course, and instead of ending another night in tears she ended it on my arm in laughter._

 _She'd forgotten what it felt like to enjoy herself, and she was delighted when we ended up staying at the same hotel. I made her laugh and feel gay, with none of the issues of everyday living she and Martin seemed to be at odds over. The longer they stayed apart, the guiltier she felt, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they resolved their differences and reconciled; they really do seem to love each other._

 _Martin was confused and disturbed; he was convinced that I was just a kindly old gentleman and Bret was the man she was truly involved with. That's why he kept followin' Bret around, tryin' to make some sense of the whole thing. He admitted to bein' drunk last night and startin' the . . . altercation. Olivia finally went to see him at the jail, and both of them feel rather foolish now._

"By the way, Bartley, that blonde you saw Martin with is his cousin. She'd come to meet 'em and finish plannin' the wedding."

I grimaced; his cousin. Well, Olivia and Martin weren't the only ones who felt foolish. I was saved from having to comment when Bret broke in.

"Me?" Bret questioned. "He thought it was me?"

Pappy nodded. "So it seems."

"I guess that makes a little more sense." He hesitated slightly and then posed another question. "And that's all this ever was? Olivia wasn't lookin' for an older gentleman to take care of her? And you weren't lookin' for a sweet young thing to light your fires on a cold winter night?"

The look that crossed Pappy's face was priceless, and if Bret had been any closer, Pappy might have slapped him. As it was, he just turned around and drilled Bret with a look; a look that I've seen many times but one that wasn't often sent in Bret's direction.

Bret was silent for a long moment before he meekly offered a shrug. "You were spendin' an awful lot of time with her."

Any and all fears I had that Pappy was nursing even the smallest of cracks in his heart were laid to rest when he scoffed in disbelief and turned back away from Bret fighting a smile. The smile wasn't entirely hidden from Bret though, and his own smile found its way back to his face. Then he laughed. Before long both he and Pappy had started giggling like schoolgirls. Sure, they could laugh about it. I was the one with the black eye.


	20. Bret - No Mrs Maverick

Bret – No Mrs. Maverick

"Me?" Pappy's news about Martin thinking _I_ was the one involved with Olivia had me completely baffled. "He thought it was me?"

Pappy merely nodded. "So it seems."

"I guess that makes a little more sense." If he thought I was the threat, his doggin' my steps did make sense, but why he thought it was still a mystery. Whose arm did he think she was always on? I guess I'll never understand Martin Langley, and that's just fine. All's well that ends well, I guess, and I wish them both the best. Although I am hoping when we leave New Orleans behind, we leave them behind too. For good.

That raised the real burning question though. Pappy may be a little melancholy about all this, but he isn't exactly broken up over it. So just what had gone on between him and Olivia? I almost didn't voice my next question but then decided to plow ahead. My curiosity was too strong to forget about all this. "And that's all this ever was? Olivia wasn't lookin' for an older gentleman to take care of her? And you weren't lookin' for a sweet young thing to light your fires on a cold winter night?"

Bart briefly glanced over at me like he couldn't believe what I'd just said and then Pappy turned around. A genuine Beauregard glare was now coming my way and I'll admit, being on the receiving end of that look isn't all that comfortable. It's definitely not something I'm used to. If I wasn't already well out of Pappy's reach I would have been tempted to step back just a bit. I guess I could have worded that a little better.

It took me a minute to recover, but when I did I shrugged and did my best to look repentant. "You were spendin' an awful lot of time with her."

Pappy scoffed in disgust and turned back around but not before I caught a brief glimpse of the smile he was trying hard to fight. Maybe I'd proved my point about the impression he was giving with Olivia, or maybe Pappy had figured it out on his own. Maybe he just thought his sons were crazy. Either way, I knew he wasn't really upset about any of it and couldn't stop a smile of my own. All this was nothing more than a big misunderstanding between pretty much everyone involved. I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. When I heard Pappy start to chuckle, I knew all was forgiven for anything I might have said.

The more I thought about it all, the funnier it became and the harder I laughed; Pappy laughed right along with me. When I was finally able to compose myself, I found Bart staring at both of us like we had lost our minds.

"I'm glad y'all find this all so funny," he said sounding a little disgruntled.

"You have to admit, there's something funny about how ridiculous this all is."

"I guess so. I guess it's a lot funnier when you don't look like you ran into a door too."

So that's what this was about. Langley packed quite a punch, especially when you weren't expecting it, and Bart certainly hadn't seen that first one coming. The end result had been an impressive shiner on his left eye, a very impressive shiner. We had both taken several good hits from the man, but we'd been more prepared after seeing what he was capable of. I had a shiner of my own on my cheek, but the hit I'd taken hadn't been nearly as hard. The slight discoloration on my cheek was nothing compared to Bart's black eye.

"Come on, Brother Bart," I told him sitting back down. "That beautiful face of yours will be back to normal in no time."

"That thought doesn't make it hurt any less."

I grimaced. The dark bruise coloring his face did have to be tender. "At least he didn't break your pretty nose," I offered. There is nothing pleasant about that experience.

Bart winced at the thought. "You got a point there. Alright, it could have been worse, but I'm still not in a hurry to run into him again."

"Literally?"

Bart rolled his eyes at my bad joke, but he did smile.

"Speaking of running into Martin," Pappy broke in. "Anyone care to explain last night to me?"

We both froze and exchanged a look. I'd been sort of hoping Pappy would just forget all that. Yeah, it was a stupid thought, but hope springs eternal. Me and Bart may be grown, something Pappy willingly acknowledges, but we are still his sons. When he asks a question, he expects an answer.

"Well?" he asked when neither of us said anything.

Bart finally spoke up. "He really did start it, Pappy."

"So he said, but he didn't wreck that casino by himself. I'm sure the two of you have something to say for yourselves." Pappy wasn't angry, but he wasn't happy either.

"It's like I told you last night, Pappy," I offered. "He hauled off and hit Bart. I wasn't going to let my brother get beat up on for no good reason."

Pappy turned to Bart. "That how it happened, Bartley? You were mindin' your own business and he hit you."

Bart sighed, and I leaned back in my chair crossing my arms. I knew my brother had picked up on the same thing I had. Pappy already had the story, thanks to Martin most likely, and now he wanted to hear it from us, and he expected it to be the truth. Not that either one of us would try to give him anything else. Neither one of us has ever been able to lie to Pappy; funny how some things never change.

"No, sir, that's not exactly how it happened," Bart answered. Pappy just raised an eyebrow, much like Bart is known to do. "Well, Bret tried to walk away from him and Langley grabbed him. I wasn't going to let my brother get manhandled for no good reason."

"That what happened, Breton?"

"Yes, sir. Langley grabbed me and the next thing I knew Bart was on the floor. I figured if he wanted a fight I'd give him one."

"And you jumped in to help him once the real fight started?" That was directed at Bart.

"Yes, sir. And given the way we both look I'd say two to one was just about fair."

Pappy sighed, and I couldn't tell if he was amused or exasperated. "Having looked at all three of you, I'd say that's just about right." Pappy shook his head. "I can't say I blame either one of you for jumping in to help the other, I'd do the same thing for Ben, but did you have to tear the gaming salon up to do it?"

Bart and I both made a face, probably the same one. The damage to the hotel hadn't even crossed my mind when I threw my first punch at Langley. I'd stupidly assumed I'd be able to take him, and pretty quickly, but Langley had turned out to be a wildcat. I wasn't entirely sure how much damage we'd done, and I really didn't want to know, but the fight had gone on much longer than I'd expected. Who knows how long it would have continued or how much worse off me and Bart would have ended up if the police hadn't come in and ended things.

"He moved faster than I thought he would," I offered lamely.

"Obviously," Pappy commented dryly.

"We are sorry about that, Pappy," Bart chimed in and just like I expected he got that puppy dog look in his eyes. Sometimes I don't even think he realizes he does it anymore, but it's still a pretty effective tactic.

"Nothing to be done about it now," Pappy muttered. I guess the puppy dog stare still works.

"We weren't drunk either," Bart offered again.

"Ah, I know that, Bartley. I know what a drunk man looks like. I know what a hangover looks like too. Neither one of you have fit either description over the last several hours. Still, it's not a charge a man likes to hear laid against his boys."

"We wouldn't do that," I told him, still a little put out for how he'd jumped on Bart at the jail earlier.

"I know you wouldn't. No more than either one of you would jump a man for no good reason. But finishing off an evening with a delightful young lady by being told you have to bail your boys out of jail isn't what most men dream about."

"Having to ask your father to bail you out of jail isn't something most men dream about either."

"I suppose not," Pappy conceded smiling slightly. He looked between the two of us. "I'm sorry this trip hasn't gone quite the way you boys planned for it to."

"That makes three of us," Bart said.

"At least it's a birthday you'll never forget," I added helpfully.

Pappy laughed. "That's undeniable." He shook his head and then slapped Bart's knee and pushed to his feet. "Well, I'm gonna go get packed up. Remember, we're on a schedule now."

Bart rolled his eyes, and I felt about the same. Yes, I was ready to go home and had talked about it for the last couple of days, but it would be nice if I didn't feel like we had to leave. "That sounds like a good idea, Pappy. We don't want to give the marshal any call to come see us again."

"Wouldn't that be fun?" Bart grumbled as he stood too.

I agreed. Another run in with the man wasn't something I was in a hurry for. Granted, he'd been polite enough about last night, we've all been kicked out of towns with a lot less ceremony, but that was no reason to push the man.

We were almost to our respective rooms when Pappy spoke again. "By the way, boys."

We both came to a halt and faced him again. "Yes, Sir?" I said.

Pappy was in the middle of lighting another cigar. He took a draw off of it and blew out a mouthful of smoke before looking at us with a grin. "You both owe me a thousand dollars now."

With that he went into his room and closed the door, leaving me and Bart staring after him in dumbfounded silence. We exchanged a look and Bart sighed. "We should have seen that comin'," he said before going into his own room. I let out a sigh of my own. Yep; we really should have.


	21. Bart - The Peculiar Mr Singer, Part I

Bart – The Peculiar Mr. Singer, Part I

The Houston River Belle wasn't available for the trip back to Texas, so we ended up taking the Bayou Princess. It was a smaller riverboat, but at least they got our accommodations straight. We had three bedrooms with a small, adjoining sitting room . . . and I got a proper place to sleep this time. In all the hustle and bustle to get checked into our rooms, we'd missed breakfast, so once we'd begun our trip home, we found ourselves in the dining room. That's one of the differences on a smaller riverboat – salons are downsized into rooms, and we were ready for lunch, no matter what they called the place we ate in.

We'd just finished ordering when one of the nightmares we thought we'd left in New Orleans showed up at our table. Elwood Singer. I had taken a swallow of coffee and was in the process of setting the cup down when he came around the corner of the room, and I almost dropped the cup. Bret was sittin' directly across the table from me, and he looked about as startled as I felt. The only one that didn't seem to have his feathers ruffled in the least was Pappy.

"How'd ya do, Mr. Maverick?" Singer asked, sounding like they were old friends.

"Not bad, Elwood. Care to join us?" Pappy's tone was downright hospitable.

Singer's face betrayed a small smile as he shook his head. "No, thanks. Just thought I'd let you know that I haven't given up yet."

"I didn't figure you would," Pappy's answer came back almost immediately.

Elwood tipped his hat and strolled off back the way he'd come. Me and Bret just sat there and gawked at Pappy, until Bret finally choked out a question. "What . . . was that?"

"Pappy?" was all I could get out.

"What? You do remember Mr. Singer?"

"Yes, but . . . "

"We thought . . . "

"Alright, I suppose I forgot to tell you." Pappy put the explanation on hold, as our food was delivered. Halfway through lunch he set down what was left of his sandwich and lit a cigar. That's usually what he does when he has something on his mind that's more important than what's left on his plate. Cigars could wait; I wasn't missin' any more of this meal. From the look of the food left in front of Bret, he felt the same way I did. Pappy blew out a ring of smoke and started to enlighten us.

"One afternoon while Olivia was otherwise engaged, I did a little investigatin'. Elwood Singer works for some insurance company outta Boston. They're the folks that insured the bank Hansboro and Wilkes robbed. Once they found out Hansboro was dead, they put Singer on the case of trailin' me, figurin' I had the missin' twenty grand.

"Of course we know that I don't; never did, and neither does Bentley. So Elwood is tryin' to collect the money and the reward, and he's gone from bein' sneaky and shifty to downright friendly. Thinks maybe I'll admit to havin' the money and splittin' the reward with him."

It took me a minute to absorb what Pappy had just told us and ask my question. "Is he gonna follow us all the way back to Little Bend?"

Pappy nodded his head solemnly. "Probably so. He ain't got nothin' better to do, and he still thinks if he follows me around long enough I'll lead him right to it." There was the smallest of pauses before he continued. "Or he might think I picked it up while we were in the bayou. Either way he's gonna be sorely disappointed."

"Have you ever given any thought to where the money might have ended up?" Bret asked, finally finished with his food.

Pappy blew out another ring of smoke before finally putting out the cigar. "Yup."

"And?"

"I've got an idea where it might be."

"Where?" I asked eagerly.

"Not so fast, Bartley. I got to ask some questions and get some answers first."

"Can we help, Pappy?" Bret questioned.

"Not until I get some answers."

"From whom?" I kept pressing Pappy for an answer.

"Elwood."

Huh?

"You boys finish your meal. I'm goin' for a walk. And no you can't come with me."

Bret started to stand up but Pappy fixed him with one of his well-known glares. I think it all but scared Bret to death. He wasn't used to being on the receiving end of a Beauregard Maverick death-stare. I patted him on the arm. "Sit back down, big brother. Pappy doesn't want your company." Bret did just that, and Pappy toddled off like he didn't have a care in the world.

XXXXXXXX

The trip back to Houston was quiet . . . I don't know whether we were all just worn out or too tired to care, but even pappy didn't show much interest in doing anything other than eating and sleeping. Two or three times a day we'd either see Mr. Singer or Pappy would go off in search of him. Whatever secret Pappy was keeping, he was doin' a damn fine job of keepin' it.

The Bayou Princess made a stop that the River Belle hadn't made, and that was in Beaumont, Texas. There was a twelve-hour layover there, and there was a lot of coming and going aboard, including three separate runs for telegrams. After the last run was made and we'd already headed for Houston again, Pappy informed us that Elwood would be joining us for supper. "He's got some information he wants to share with me, and I figured supper was as good a place as any."

Bret and me exchanged glances, and without another word, Pappy headed for the poker room. We headed for the bar. Bret got coffee; I had a glass of wine and we moved to a table. Once we were settled we started throwin' theories around at each other. After about an hour of that we just sat and stared. No matter what we came up with, it didn't sound right. Big Brother finished his coffee and stood up before he said anything. "I'm goin' to find me a game," he announced. "You comin' with me?"

"Nope, go right ahead. I'll see you and Pappy at supper." He gave me a kind of squirrelly look and headed the same way Pappy'd gone. I switched to coffee and began to wonder just what was goin' on between Beauregard and Elwood. I checked my watch; almost another hour to go before I could find out.

My eye felt better than it had since Langley hit me, but it was still botherin' me some. I reached up to rub it; I know I wasn't supposed to do that, but I was doin' it anyway. That's when I saw 'em, all bright and shiny like new copper pennies. Langley, Olivia and Singer. They were sittin' at a table, way back in the corner, actin' like they were the best of friends. Langley and Singer appeared to be deep in a discussion of some kind, and Olivia looked bored. They talked for another few minutes, then the men shook hands and Langley got to his feet. He helped Olivia up and they left the table, headed off to God knows where. Singer finished his drink, left some money on the table, and headed for the dining room. I was sorely tempted to follow the couple but it was almost time to meet Pappy, so I, too, followed Elwood. I had the feeling this was gonna be good.

When I found the Maverick table, Pappy, Bret and Elwood were already there. I took the seat opposite Mr. Singer and waited. "Thought we was gonna have to send the hounds out for you, Bartley. Where were you?" Pappy asked.

"In the bar drinkin' coffee," I replied slowly, without givin' anything away. "I saw Mr. Singer talkin' to an old friend of yours, Pappy,"

"Oh?" Pappy inquired.

I didn't offer anything further and the table remained quiet. Bret kept an eye on me like he usually did when he knew I was up to somethin', but he seemed content to let me play the hand. The waiter came and we ordered coffee and supper, and once he was gone, Pappy pulled what looked like a very old letter from inside his coat pocket. "What's that, Pa?" Bret finally asked.

"Somethin' Mr. Singer's been lookin' for. Matter of fact, he's not the only one that's been lookin' for it."

"Martin Langley."

Pappy turned toward me and beamed. "Good guess."

Big Brother had figured it out. "It wasn't a guess, Pappy. I'd wager that's the old friend Bart saw."

"Correct."

"What's Langley got to do with all this?"

"Langley is actually Martin Langley Wilkes; the brother that Tyler Wilkes didn't know he had. When I took Tyler's letter to his mother he was only three or four years old." Pappy sat back and played with the food left on his plate. His appetite seemed to be shrinkin', and I wondered what else was goin' on that I hadn't noticed.

"Has he been doggin' you, Pappy?" Bret asked politely, but there was an undertone in his voice.

"Lookin' for me is more like it," Pappy clarified.

"And Olivia?" I asked.

"She's an innocent in all this. They really are engaged to be married, and the argument between 'em was real, but forced by Langley. When his momma died, the letter from Tyler was lost. The letter tellin' her where the money was buried. It took him years to figure out that I knew where the money was, too."

"You read the letter, you old scoundrel," Bret chuckled.

"Of course I did. I ain't gonna deliver somethin' that might unjustly accuse me."

God bless Pappy. Now I know where I get my deviousness from.

"You've had the letter all this time?" Elwood just about choked.

"Not the letter, Elwood, just a copy."

"And you let everyone think you'd never even seen it?"

"Yep."

Mr. Singer didn't waste any time. He pulled his gun and trained it on Pappy. "Hand it over, Beauregard."

"Did you make a deal with Martin?" Pappy asked.

"I'm sure he did. That's who he was meetin' with in the bar."'

Pappy casually handed the 'copy' of the letter to Elwood. "Good luck, Mr. Singer. You're gonna need it."

Elwood scrambled up and away from the table, the letter clutched tightly in his hand. When he was out of sight, we turned to Pappy and waited. "You boys expectin' somethin'?" Pappy chuckled.

"You gonna give up a big reward?" Bret asked.

"Just like that?" I followed up.

"Ain't gonna be no reward. Ain't gonna be no money recovered. Remember when I went into Beaumont and sent a couple telegrams?"

"Yeah."

"Sure."

"I found out somethin' Elwood don't know. Seems the state of Texas bought the land from Langley after his momma died."

"So?" Bret questioned.

"You ever hear of Hutchins State Jail in Dallas?"

I had; it's the biggest prison in the state. And its size is massive. "Are you tellin' us what I think you're tellin' us?"

Pappy just grinned from ear to ear. "Yep. The money's buried somewhere under the prison. They'll never get to it." Then Pappy started to laugh, and he couldn't stop. And before long Bret and me had joined in. And we laughed practically all the way back to Little Bend.

TBC


	22. Bret - The Peculiar Mr Singer, Part II

Bret – The Peculiar Mr. Singer, Part II

"What happens when Singer finds out about the prison?" Bart asked once Pappy regained some composure. We were back in our sitting room by the time that happened and Pappy was only marginally less amused now than he'd been at dinner.

Pappy shrugged. "What can he do? Money's gone now."

"What about Langley?" I asked more concerned about him. Langley had already proven he'd act on emotion and impulse. What would the loss of that kind of money do to him? Especially since it didn't seem like the Mavericks were his favorite people.

Pappy erupted into gales of laughter again. "He'll do even less than Singer will."

"How can you be so sure?" Bart asked.

I was curious too. Pappy sounded absolutely confident neither one would be back. I would be the first to say chasing Pappy down again would be foolish and a waste of time, but then I wouldn't say that Langley or Singer was the brightest man I've ever encountered. I wouldn't put it past either one to try something when they found out about Pappy's con.

Pappy plopped down on the sofa and grinned at us. "For the simple reason young mister Langley already knows what Singer will soon discover about the money."

Bart and I looked at each other, then back at Pappy. "What?" Bart asked

"How?" I added.

"Because I told him."

Me and Bart exchanged another look. "You-you told him?" I asked in disbelief. Pappy nodded once. "When? Why? I mean what you do you mean you told him?"

Pappy chuckled again like he was enjoying a private joke and I guess he was; he was the only one who knew what was going on. He composed himself quickly this time, however. "Sit down, boys. You might as well get comfortable if you want the whole story. The real story."

"What do you mean by the real story?" Bart asked.

"About Langley."

"What you told us at dinner wasn't the real story?"

Pappy sighed. "Yes, but it wasn't quite complete. It was complete enough for Singer, but there is a little more to it."

I sat down beside Bart. "Like what?"

"Like Langley's a little smarter than you're both probably thinking he is."

I exchanged another look with my brother and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. We were going to have to dig this out of pappy one piece at a time.

I sighed and leaned forward, propping my elbows on my knees. "Alright, Pappy, what do you know about Langley?"

That self-satisfied smirk of pappy's was well in place now. "Well, Elwood Singer may be a cad, but he's a good investigator. When he observed I was gettin' dogged by someone else, he started to inquire about Mr. Langley, thinking Langley might be someone who could help him with me. Or at the very least give him some information."

"And he was right," I said. "Wasn't he?"

"Not exactly. What Singer discovered was the late Mrs. Langley, Martin's mother, used to be Mrs. Wilkes. Martin and Tyler were only half brothers."

Bart shrugged. "What difference does that make?"

"It wouldn't necessarily make any difference, but Singer overestimated Langley's fraternal devotion. You see, Martin never met Tyler, and Tyler never knew about Martin. I told you Martin was just a little thing when I took that letter to his mama. He knew he had an older brother that had run off before he was born, and it seems he knew that brother died in prison, but that was about as far as it went."

I was starting to see what Pappy was saying. "So Martin wasn't looking for you?"

Pappy shook his head. "Nope. Our Mister Singer has a one track mind though. When he found out about the relationship between Martin and Wilkes and saw Martin following us around, he assumed Martin had intentionally sought me out."

"So Langley had nothing to do with any of this?" Bart asked.

"Not at first. It's like I told you, he and Olivia are engaged and the fight was real. Me being the one to step in and him being Tyler's brother was nothing more than a twist of fate. A happy twist of fate as far as Singer was concerned."

"So Singer got him mixed up in all this?" I was still confused as to what exactly had happened to get Langley involved.

"Precisely. Like I said, Singer assumed given how interested Martin was in us, that he had some reason for his interest."

"Besides Olivia you mean."

"Exactly. Singer just couldn't believe that all of us meeting was just coincidence, and was sure Martin had to be after the money too. He must have thought he'd found the perfect ally in Martin and apparently he asked Martin about it several times. Martin denied it all of course."

Bart seemed to think about that for a while before asking another question. "So how did Martin get involved with things here on the boat?"

Pappy grinned sneakily and chuckled again. "Well, I had a little something to do with that."

I matched Pappy's sneaky smile. "That's not at all surprising. So what did you tell him?"

"And how did you find out he was Wilkes brother?" Bart added. "Or did you know that from the beginning?"

Pappy shook his head. "Of course not. Granted, I never expected to see him again, certainly not here and under those circumstances, but his name meant nothing to me when I first heard it. It actually wasn't until I had my talk with Singer the other day that all the pieces came together. Singer seemed very proud of himself when he revealed that little bit of information."

"How sure are you Martin really wasn't following you though?" Bart piped up. "It does seem a little coincidental that Martin would just turn up here, that Olivia would get mixed up with you, and that Singer would be doggin' you too."

"I agree, and so did Singer apparently, but as I said before, it was nothing more than a twist of fate. Not to mention this would have all been a rather elaborate plot considering you boys and Olivia were involved, too."

What Pappy said was true, it would be elaborate if Martin and Singer had been in on all this together from the start, but was it any more unreasonable than thinking that this had all been happenstance? Besides, Bart and I have cooked up some pretty elaborate plans in the past ourselves. "How can you be so sure about Langley?"

"Because I asked him." Pappy held up a hand to stave off the questions me and Bart were both getting ready to ask. "I had a long chat with Mister Langley after my talk with Singer. As I said before, he's a little smarter than either one of you probably gives him credit for. Not that I blame either one of you given your experiences with him, but I think the boy finally has his head on straight."

"That still doesn't explain how Singer got mixed up with Langley again on this boat," I pointed out.

Pappy sighed. "Well, if the two of you would stop asking questions for a minute and let me finish my story you might understand."

Bart and I exchanged a look and I could tell Bart had to fight not to roll his eyes again. "Sorry, Pappy," I replied with a smirk. "You won't hear another word out of us until you're done."

"Bout time," Pappy muttered. He was quiet a minute like he couldn't remember exactly where in this crazy story he was.

I exchanged another look with Bart and Bart was the one smirking this time. "Langley wasn't looking for you," he said softly when the silence continued a few more beats.

"Thank you, Bartley," Pappy said shooting him a disgruntled look.

"You're welcome, Pappy," Bart answered with a grin.

"As I was saying," Pappy went on. "Langley wasn't looking for me. I asked him about that the morning him, me, and Olivia had our talk. Singer only assumed he would be looking to avenge his brother, but I don't think that ever crossed Martin's mind. Like I said, he never even met Tyler. In Martin's mind, Tyler was the wayward older brother that had very little to do with him. He did tell me Singer had approached him more than once, however, trying to make a deal with him. Of course, at the time, Martin was far more concerned with how I was involved with Olivia rather than Tyler and had no interest in anything Singer had to say. Well, after I talked to Singer that first day on the boat, he mentioned Martin was onboard. As far as Singer was concerned, that was just proof Martin really was after me and wanted the money all to himself. So, after I left Singer I went looking for Martin. We had a long talk about everything, and I finally told him about the letter."

Pappy stopped talking then, and after a long pause I decided to hazard a question. "How did he take the news?"

Pappy laughed again. "He found the whole thing rather amusing."

"Really?" Bart asked. "He didn't mind that all that money was gone for good?"

Pappy shook his head. "Not a bit. The Wilkes may not have had a lot, but money was the least of the Langley's worries." Pappy shrugged. "After that, I convinced him to play along with Singer. Told him I had a copy of the letter his mama had gotten and if Singer tried to make a deal with him again, he should accept it. I figured it'd get Singer off both our backs."

"And now that Singer's got the letter, he's gonna be in a big hurry to get to Dallas, all by himself so that he can collect both the money and the reward, and not give up any of it to you or Langley." Bart had a big smile on his face.

"Nice to know that my boys haven't lost their touch. It took y'all long enough to figure it out."

"You withheld about half of the facts, Pappy," I reminded him.

"Not exactly withheld," was Pappy's answer. "I couldn't take the chance that Singer'd find out somethin' I told you, so I had to keep what I knew to myself until the time was right."

"And now Singer will go tearin' off to Dallas, and Martin and Olivia will . . . "

"Will go on to San Antonio, where they'll be married by Olivia's brother, who's a priest there. As a matter of fact, we're all invited to the weddin' in three weeks."

"Are you serious?" Bart asked.

"Yes sir, I certainly am. Everybody's bruises should be healed by that time, and I told Martin we'd give it serious consideration."

Bart and me looked at each other, and both of us breathed a big sigh of relief. I can't imagine how dull our lives would have been if we'd have had anyone for a father besides Beauregard Jefferson Maverick.

The End


End file.
